A Scar upon the Earth
by Lady Maisry
Summary: The rolicking OC-based tale of Adahni Farishta, a wise-cracking bard with a heart of gold. Well, silver, anyway. Rated M mostly for some very dark themes, the sex and violence is hopefully not gratuitous. Completed, but currently revising old chapters.
1. The Prodigal's Return

West Harbor, like so many towns in the Mere and along the rocky shore of the Sword coast, has never really changed. Adahni Farishta looked out over it from the border of the swamp. The houses had their same lilting slope, the roofs hanging over the small stoops as though they were growing as gnarly and twisted as the juniper trees, which still grew around the borders of most of them. It was the dead of night, of course, and so the people who might have changed over the past eight years were all inside. She crept over the damp grass to the house she had called home at one point. She opened the door slowly. She would worry about explaining herself to her foster father in the morning... she needed the night to gather her thoughts. The last thing she needed was to wake the old man up in the middle of the night.

To her dismay, he was seated in front of the fire, wide awake, puffing on a pipe. The smell of it washed over her, somehow immensely comforting.

"I thought you might return," he said, without turning around, "One of these days."

"Well," she replied, "Here I am."

"Come here," he commanded, "Let me take a look at you."

She obliged, kneeling before him so that he could look her in the face. Daeghun took her chin in his small, slender hands. He tipped her head this way and that, his pale eyes taking it all in - the swollen mess that her right eye had become, the nasty split down her lower lip, the scars that peppered her shoulders and neck.

"A little worse for wear," he observed, "You've grown thin."

"I haven't had an appetite," she said.

"You're small," he said, "Too small for a girl – a woman, your age. You should eat something."

"My age," she snorted, "I'm a woman grown."

"In body perhaps," he said, "But your heart is still fifteen, isn't it?"

"Maybe," she said, "I suppose I could cut it out and count the rings..."

"You're being flippant with me," he said.

"Aren't you going to ask where I've been?" she demanded, "What I've been doing?"

"We both know you aren't ready to tell me just yet," said Daeghun, "For now, all I can do for you is offer the comforts of home. And when you're spirit has grown a little older, I can offer you an ear. There are clean sheets on your bed. You should have Brother Merring take a look at your face tomorrow."

She climbed the stairs – there were eleven of them, as she used to count when she was a child so that she could take them in the dark or with her eyes closed. Throwing herself down on her own bed, she fell into a sleep so deep, so dreamless, that when she awoke the next morning she thought that she'd blacked out. It took her a moment to remember where she was. She reached a hand up to her face, felt the pain of her eye. She still couldn't open it.

She put on the clothes in the wardrobe. They were a bit tighter around the shoulders and chest than they had been the last time she had worn them, but not by much. She charged down the stairs, her heart pounding with more energy than she had felt for as long as she could remember. She strode right past Daeghun, who was eating oatmeal at the kitchen table. She walked out into the bright fall morning, the pungent odor of the swamp striking her full in the nostrils in a way she had never noticed before. She was oblivious to the stares of the villagers, to whom she must have seemed an apparition, a ghost of a girl who had been eight years dead. She walked purposely, without looking anyone in the eye, towards the Starling house. She didn't even know if Lorne was still there, and if he wasn't, then his younger brother must be old enough to be in the militia.

She rapped on the door.

"Who is it?" called a young man's voice. To Adahni's astonishment, the strapping lad who opened the door was nearly twice the size of the pipsqueak she had left all those years before.

"Bevil?"

"Who are you? Is that... is that you, Addie? You're back?"

"Well I should hope so, because if I'm not then one of us is hallucinating and the other isn't real," she quipped.

"Where have you..."

"Don't even ask," she said, "I need a favor."

"A favor? You show up after eight years, and that's the first thing you say to me? What about why you left? What happened? And what in the hells happened to your eye?"

"I need to learn to fight," she said, "Not just brawl, I need to learn to really fight, and I need someone like you to teach me."

"What... wha... Addie, what is going on?"

"Nobody," she said, ignoring the question, "Is ever going to beat me up again, and if I run across anybody who has, I want to be able to give out worse than what I get."

"That's as good a reason as any, but for the gods' sake, come in and eat something. You look like a ghost!"

As she entered the Starlings' kitchen, saw the little ones at the table, smelled the bread that his mother was baking, she began to feel hungry. Retta Starling, ever the mother, made such a fuss over her that she felt worse about leaving her than her own father. She dutifully gulped down a bowl of porridge that was set in front of her and some bread with fresh butter. At first she felt queasy, but soon her stomach grew accustomed to it and she felt better, stronger than she could ever remember feeling before.

"Where's Lorne?" she asked, suddenly registering his absence.

"That's a question I had hoped to ask you," Retta replied, "He went to fight in the war, and we heard nothing from him since, not even a letter telling us the worst had happened. I don't presume to know where you went on your travels, but... did they take you to Luskan? To Neverwinter?"

"Mum, she doesn't want to talk about it," Bevil said, "If she'd seen hide or hair of Lorne she would have told us right away, right Addie?'

"Of course!" Adahni replied, "I'm sorry, Retta, I really... really don't want to speak of where I've been. Especially not in front of the children."

"Well whatever trouble you've gotten yourself into, you're out of it now," Retta said, "You should ask Brother Merring about that eye of yours. Sometimes they don't heal right. Wouldn't want to lose your sight now."

"I'll take here there now, Mum," Bevil said, "We'll stop by Tarmis' on the way, see if Amie can come and talk."

Bevil hurried her out the door, and arm, much larger and muscular than the one he'd had when she left, around her shoulders. "All right, Addie," he said, "I know you're being all mysterious about where you've been, but there's one question I have to know the answer to."

"Oh, Bevil, can't it..."

"Where's Dayven? Why didn't he come back with you?"

"I left him," Ada replied, "That's why I returned. He wanted to stay where we were, I didn't."

"Did he... he give you that?" Bevil reached up gingerly and touched the swollen mass that was her eye.

"You could say that," she said, laughing ruefully, "It'll be all right, though, I've had worse gifts from him."

"I knew that bastard was no good. Why didn't you listen to me? There hasn't been a day – single day that Amie or I hasn't wondered where you were, worried about you. And now... now you've shown up and you're worse than ever. Why... why didn't you listen to us? Any of us?"

"You know, Bevil," she replied, "I've spent a long time, most of my youth in fact, asking myself the same damn question. And frankly, I've come to the conclusion that I am stupid. I let that no good piece of orc crap push me around for years, and now I'm through, and nobody is ever going to push me around like that again."

"There's the spirit," Bevil said after a long silence. He had decided that being lighthearted about the whole matter might make it a bit better, "Now drop and give me twenty."

"Twenty what?'

"Push-ups."

"What ?"

"Get on the ground and give me twenty. Now!" he barked, his voice taking on the timbre of his own captain.

Dutifully, Adahni dropped to the ground, her hands sliding in the dewy grass, and gave him twenty, struggling all the way. Twice, she could not longer support herself, and fell face-first into the ground. But, at the end, she rose, wiped the grime off her hands, and grinned. So there was something of the old Adahni left in this women, Bevil thought with satisfaction, she wasn't there yet, but she could be brought back.

"Good," he declared, "I'll talk to Georg. You'll start running drills with us tomorrow."

"I... what?"

"Well, you said you wanted to learn to fight. That's how you learn to fight," he said.

"I mean... not like that..."

"Well that's what I can teach you," he said, "Anyway, we need someone else on our team for the Harvest Brawl."

"That's not for another whole year," she protested, "Anyway, I'm a little old for that nonsense, anyway."

"No you're not," Bevil said, "You're only twenty-three, same age as me and Amie."

"I feel too old," she said, "Plus aren't the Mossfeld's going out for it? Last thing I need is another fist in my face."

"Addie, we dreamed about this, don't you remember?" he said, "That year that Cormick won, you wanted to be just like him. We dreamed about it for so long... and then you left, and now you're back, and it's just in time, you can't _not_ do it now..."

"That's what you dreamed?" she sighed, "That's it? The Harvest Cup?"

"Why, what did you dream?" he responded, a little annoyed, "And did you find it in whatever far land you traveled to?"

"Point taken," she replied. She looked at him. He was still hoping for an answer this time, she could tell. It would have been so easy to loose her tongue... no. She had lost her family, her looks, her innocence. The only thing remaining to her was her pride, and she was not about to let that vanish on her as well.

That night she sat in Lazlo's tavern, lazily smoking a pipe and pretending to listen as Bevil and Amie nattered on about things she didn't really care about. As expected, most of the people she had grown up with were married, with four or five little ones, or single like Bevil and Amie and lived with their parents or masters. She sipped her ale, nonchalantly, watching two of the Mossfeld brothers arm wrestle. Each one of them had look thirty since they were twelve. No change there.

"So," Amie asked, trying her best to sound off-hand, "What ever happened to Dayven?"

"I used him up and threw him away," Adahni replied, smirking.

"Did he marry you?"

"_I_didn't marry _him,_" Adahni said. That was a lie, of course, most of the few words she had spoken to her friends that day had been lies or half-truths or some mongrel child of the two.

"So what have you done? For money and stuff? Where were you living?"

"I lived above a tavern, in a village, I won't tell you its name because you wouldn't recognize it," she said, "I played the harp and sang songs for drunks for a living." Truth. Lie. Lie. Half truth.

"So play something," Bevil said, "I don't remember you being any sort of prodigy."

"I'm not," she said, "As I said. For drunks."

"Well then," he said, "Let's become drunks, and maybe then you'll play for us."

Four or five rounds later, Amie was red in the face. Bevil had traded words with Ward Mossfeld, but they'd managed to patch things up rather quickly. Adahni wasn't even feeling drunk.

"Let's have a song, Addie," Bevil finally blustered, coming back hefting three full steins in one burly arm.

"I found a harp!" Amie chimed in, "Come on, play one!"

"Fine," Adahni said, smiling slightly, "All right." She took the harp that Amie had borrowed from behind the bar. She played a couple of notes. It was finer than the one she had played before, better made, the strings made of spun silver instead of cat gut.

"What kind of song?" she asked.

"A drinking song!" Amie and Bevil shouted together, joined by five or six others. Adahni shook her head. Her eye was paining her something terrible.

"Come on then," one of the Mossfelds shouted, "Let's hear it."

"All right, all right," she conceded. She struck up a melody, still very conscious of the pain.

_"I'm a rambler, I'm a gambler, I'm a long way from home!_

_And if you don't like me, then leave me alone,_

_I eat when I'm hungry, I drink when I'm dry, and if the moonshine don't kill me, I'll live 'til I die..."_

The song had five or six thousand verses, but Adahni forgot most of them, fortunately. She was enjoying herself, she found. Her eye didn't hurt her nearly as much, the pain was receding like ripples on a pond.

"Ada!" exclaimed Amie, "Your eye!"

"You just notice?" Adahni laughed, "It's been like this all day."

"No," Amie replied, "It's... it's getting better."

Adahni put her hand up to feel it, and instead of the mottled bruise that had been, she felt her own eyelashes. She blinked. She shut her left eye. She could see.

"How in the hells...?" she breathed.

"Ada, do you have any dragon blood in you?" Bevil asked.

"Dragon blood?" Adahni said, "Hells, could be. Not like Daeghun's terribly forthcoming with that sort of information." She thought back, to the last place she had slept. The flames licking the walls around her, sparks flying everywhere, the screams of the people trapped inside the inn. And yet, she had emerged unscathed. Not a blister.

"Sometimes people with dragon blood can do that," said Amie, "Tarmis thinks they're stupid, of course."

"Really," Adahni replied, "I dunno, seems like a useful trick."

"What did you do?" asked Bevil.

"I didn't do anything," she replied, "I just... it was hurting, and then I played, and now it's gone, apparently."

"Oooh, magic," hissed Wyl Mossfeld, "She's a witch!"

"No, that'd be your mother," she retorted, "Here, let me see your arm, Bevil."

Bevil extended his arm. There was a deep gash there, marred by the stitches that someone, himself in all likelihood, had used to mend it.

_"I've been a moonshiner for many a year, I spent all me money on whiskey and beer..." _Before her eyes, the wound closed, and there was nothing but smooth skin where it had been. Not even a scar.

"Well that's useful," he remarked, opening and closing his hand, running his fingers over where it had been, "Just as good as if Merring had done it himself."

"Lovely!" exclaimed Amie, "You're a natural. Don't tell Tarmis, he'll give you one of his lectures on the benefits of studying the arcane and how irresponsible it is to use talents untrained."

"Like I'd speak to Tarmis on my own," she scoffed, "I'll tell Daeghun. Well, he'll see my eye and I guess I'll have to say something." She sighed and sat back in her chair. "Interesting, very interesting."

"That's all you can say? Interesting?" Amie said, "That's a marvelous talent! You should study it more!"

"I will," said Adahni, "I never imagined a drinking song would be so useful."

She returned home that night, a little tipsy, but nothing to be embarrassed about. She ignored Webb Mossfeld's invitations up to his family's hayloft, and laughed as Amie stumbled so badly that Bevil had to sling her across his back and carry her back to Tarmis's house. She shut the door as quietly as she could behind her, but again. Daeghun was at his place by the fire and registered her entrance.

"So I see you saw Merring," he observed.

"Actually," she said, "I didn't." She related what had occurred in the tavern.'

"Interesting," he said, "Very interesting. That's a useful talent you have there. I suggest you explore it."

"I'm joining the militia," she said.

"Good," he said, "You need some muscle on your bones. And I dare say that your next lover will think twice about damaging that pretty face of yours."

She felt her cheeks go hot.

"How did you know?"

"How couldn't I know?" he asked, calmly, "You were quite aware of what he was when you decided to run away with him, as was I."

"You didn't try to stop me," she relied.

"I knew it would have been of no use. Trust me, Adahni, I've learned a thing or two in this past century. I've met dozens of teenagers, and I know how they function. I had just hoped that you would have realized your mistake a little sooner."

"I did," she replied, "Do you think it was easy, getting away from him?"

"I didn't say that it was," he replied, "And you're back, at least for now, and I dare say there's a bit more sense in you than there was when you were fifteen."

"I should hope so."

"You should go to bed now. I can smell the ale on your breath. And if you're to be in the militia, it's best not to start drills with a headache."

"Yes, _father_," she drawled, but took his advice and again, climbed the stairs into her old room. It was smaller than she had remembered it, but cozy. She curled up under the blankets and was soon snoring. Her sleep, though, was troubled. The screams echoed through her dreams, flame dripped like water through the cracks in the ceiling. She felt its heat, but no pain. She saw the charred carcasses of those she had been entertaining only hours before. But she was alive. She was alive, and she could still escape.


	2. The Rambler and the Gambler

The days passed quickly, her days filled with running with the rest of the recruits. At first, she lagged behind, her legs sore and her breath rasping. By the end of the winter, her legs and lungs had grown strong. Her arms were no longer bony, with the elbows bulging out, but had grown thick, ropy muscles. Her twenty-fourth birthday that autumn found her three inches taller and thirty pounds heavier. Gazing in the mirror on the morning of the Harvest Fair, she was pleased with what she saw. She could barely contain her excitement when Bevil and Amie came to drag her away to the festivities, despite the cynicism she had initially felt at the prospect.

How blue the sky was that day, how easily her arrow sliced through the air, and how satisfying the crack of wood on bone as she sent Wyl Mossfeld reeling, clutching his broken jaw. The natural flexibility and balance that had made her such a dancer came in well. She fought without armor, deflecting the blows not with a shield but making sure they landed on her solid arms or shoulders. Bruised, but not beaten, she reveled in their victory.

That night was the first that whole year that she allowed herself to get drunk. After so many years in a constant state of inebriation, the booze was like an old friend. The ale flowed freely from kegs set up all over the village, and even Daeghun partook, even gracing them with a slight smirk that she imagined he would have called a smile. The drink used to make her feel dead, and she had numbed herself with it nightly for all those years she was away, but now it was making her feel alive, making her feel the grass around her limbs and see the star-filled sky a little more clearly. The sky and the earth were fading into a happy hum, which she carried with her until she staggered back to her bed well after midnight.

What occurred next still seemed like a dream, not in the least because she was still three sheets to the wind when Bevil and Amie burst into her bedchamber, waking her. Like in a dream, she saw flashes of things occurring, but did not feel herself a part of them. There were spells, glowing through the air, the sound of steel on steel. She saw bladelings, odd creatures with spikes sticking out all over their bodies, and duergars, the dark dwarves with their black iron weapons. At the center of it all was a mage, humanoid, but not human. She searched her swimming mind to identify the species. _Githyanki, _she thought, and lunged forward. She thrust her blade forward and back, trying to fight her way in to dispatch him, like she had been thought, but it was as though she was watching herself do it.

And then, after what seemed like no more than five minutes, it was over, and she was being given another order. Go into the Mere and find something hidden in the ruins about half a mile down the path. She went, Bevil at her heels. Every step took all the strength she could muster, and more still to keep her balance. Twice she fell, plunging her hands into the cold muck of the swamp in an effort to right herself, and once she had to stop, lean on a tree, and vomit into the black water. Bevil did his best to keep her upright as they reached the ruin, a crumbling stone structure, and went in. There, in a dusty old chest that was newer in make, but had evidently lain there for some time, they found what they were looking for.

"What in the living hells is this?" she wondered. It was glowing and jagged bit of metal, wrapped in a piece of white silk. Whoever had placed it there had done so with great care. She tucked it into her pocket and set out, lurching back along the path to the village.

She saw the corpses lined up as she entered. Amie. One of Pitney Lannon's daughters. Two of Daeghun's ranger associates. She stared for a moment. _Good gods, Addie, _she scolded herself, _You've seen plenty of corpses. Snap out of it! _But she could not snap out of it, and Daeghun had to physically remove her, all the while explaining to her that she had to leave West Harbor, immediately, and head for Neverwinter.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. Her body was still buzzing. All she wanted was to go back to sleep and deal with all of this nonsense when the sun was high in the sky. She forced herself to focus on Daeghun's words. The silver shard that she held in her hand, still clutched there, was what the attackers had come for, and it was now her task to take it out of her village. That very night. She shook her head again, but nodded. If she could only get out of her father's sight, perhaps she could curl up under a tree somewhere and sleep it off. She said perfunctory and drunken farewells to those she had known all her life, but had met again over the past year, and set off to the north, still not quite sure of what had just taken place.

It was the second time she would leave her home. The first time, she had crept out out in the dead of night, meeting her lover by the bridge and scurrying away into the darkness. Dayven had been so young, his eyes so green even in the pallor of the moonlight. He'd scooped her up there, drawing her into his arms and tipping her head back to kiss her, ravenously, as he always did. _We're getting away, dearlove, no more of this one-horse town for us. We're off to better things..._

"Better things indeed," she snorted, stumbling through the swamp, ever vigilant for somewhere she could lie down.

She found nothing until, seemingly out of nowhere, she came to an inn. Relief washed over her. She could afford a room for the night, and then sort out her situation in the morning.

Of course, she would have no such luck.

"Now that we're outside, perhaps you'd like to say that again... a little louder, so you can think about what you're saying!" It was a voice like molasses mixed in with a handful of gravel. She saw three humans and one dwarf, squared off. They were demanding money or something. She rubbed her eyes. There were two dwarves. No... just one...

Between that point and ten minutes later, Adahni did not know what had happened, but was looking down in puzzlement at the three unfortunates on the ground and listening to the dwarf jabber on about something. The only words she heard were "story" and "tankard." _If it'll get me inside by the fire, I'll tell any stories, sing any songs this psychotic dwarf wants._

To her surprise, he meant drinking tankards right then and there and listening to _his_ stories. She gulped down the ale, suddenly thirsty. This turned out to be a mistake. She stared, trying to keep him in focus, not really hearing anything of what he had to say. _Khelgar_, she kept repeating in her head, _that's his name._ _Don't forget who he is, because you're going to have to ask him what happened in the morning._

He was still blabbering when the door burst open with a bang. There were more of those... those things, those little gray creatures and the scaly bastards with spikes sticking out every which way. She got up from the table, drawing her sword. She stumbled and staggered, swinging her blade wildly. She was all instinct at this point, unable to remember her militia training, and relying on what her muscles had learned. She opened her eyes wide and screamed like a banshee as she laid about with her sword, not paying particular attention to where the blows landed.

"Whoa there, lass," said Khelgar. He looked a little afraid of her, "That's enough. They're gone now."

They both jumped to hear a woman's hysterical scream. "There's more... upstairs! My husband's up there!"

"Gods almighty," groaned Adahni, "There had better be some gold and, more importantly, somewheres to sleep once I'm done with them."

The woman only shrieked incoherently, and Adahni was inclined to go upstairs and take care of the problem, if only to make her shut up.

She found a few more bladelings and gray dwarves. At this point, she was so tired and angry and blood-spattered to really care. Khelgar did most of the work, and when it was through, and the rescued parties safely downstairs, she shut herself in one of the rooms, drew the latch, and passed out on the bed.

She awoke the next morning to a banging on the door. "Lass!" a familiar voice shouted, "Come on, then, are you even alive in there?"

Adahni stirred. Her head felt all right, but her body ached. She looked down at herself in horror. She was _covered_in gashes, each of her arms had been sliced deeply, and there was still part of a bladeling spike sticking out of her back. She cursed, and leapt to her feet. She reached behind her and tugged the spike out, but doing so started a torrent of blood, soaking her tunic and dripping between the chinks in her armor.

"I... I..." she said, panicked. A song, a song! She had to think of a...

"Give me a song!" she shouted.

"What, lass?"

"A song!" she shouted, "Don't ask questions, you insufferable fool!"

"Um... uh...," he grumbled, "What kind of song?"

"I don't care!" she said. She twisted and turned, but only succeeded in worsening the bleeding. She stripped off her chain mail and tore up her tunic, trying to stanch the bleeding. How had she slept all night with that in her back? She thought desperately, and remembered one, the one she had sung the first time she had discovered she had this talent.

_"I'll go to some hollow in this country_

_Ten gallons of wash, I can go on a spree!_

_No pretty lads to follow, the world is all mine,_

_For I love none so well as I love the moonshine!"_

She sang the lyrics, feeling the wound in her back closing, seeing the deep cuts in her arms fade and letting the pain drain from her body. She unlatched the door and came face to face – well, chest to face - with the dwarf. He was in remarkably good conditions, considering the fight they'd had. The dried blood on his bald head was not his own. He scratched it off with one filthy fingernail.

"What was that about?" he asked, "Singing to yourself? You're mad as a bag of bats!"

"Perhaps I am, but the singing was not a symptom. I... I can do things, with song," she said, "Doesn't matter what song, it's what I'm thinking when I'm playing it. And this particular time I was bleeding from a spike in my back and I needed to think of one before I passed out."

"You took quite a drubbing last night," he said, "I'm impressed. You've won my respect, lass, and my ax at your side."

"Thank you," she replied, unsure of what else to say. They sauntered down the stairs. She walked with a new bravado, a swing in her footsteps that she had not had before. She tipped her chin up and gazed down at the inns' occupants. The hysterical woman who had enlisted her help the night before handed her a few gold, as did the innkeeper.

"My armor is ruined," she said, "I need a new set. Do you know of any blacksmiths in the area?"

"Not really," the innkeeper replied, "But I do have a stock of me own. Take a look if you want."

She bought some chainmail, finer than any the Westharbor militia could afford. She put it on right then and there, eliciting some stares and giggles from the crowd. She only realized afterwards that the tunic she wore underneath was in tatters, and felt her cheeks go red. As thanks for the help, she bought Khelgar a new ax, slightly better than the one he was carrying, and some better armor. She sold the old stuff back to the innkeeper, who said that he could sell it to the next blacksmith coming through, something about recycling it into something more effective.

They bid farewell to the Weeping Willow Inn under the noonday sun. The path to Neverwinter would take them through, if Adahni remembered correctly, an encampment that wanted to be a village, name of Fort Locke. They chatted the whole way. She heard about Khelgar's youth in the mountains to the southeast. She told him about her home village, and what had happened to set her off on this unfortunate journey. They traded jokes and funny anecdotes. All in all, though perhaps each still thought the other was mad as a bag of bats, they enjoyed each other's company, and felt reasonably safe with the other on watch. It was nigh on sunset by the time they came to the bottom of the hill, atop which stood the fort.

"No sense in resting now," she said,"May as well sees what trouble awaits us up there."

"You know how I like trouble," Khelgar said, and laughed a low, rumbling laugh.

They sauntered up the hill together, singing the moonshiner song that had saved Adahni's life that morning. Khelgar knew more verses than she did.

"Now," he said, "If only we had a little of that fellow's moonshine now, it'd make this journey a mite more interesting!"

"I had a friend who made moonshine," said Adahni. She thought, briefly, of Dayven. He'd inherited his father's copper still, deep in the swamp where the militia wouldn't find it. That's how he'd made his living, orphaned at fourteen, picking pockets and brewing whiskey that'd make you blind, drunk, or both. She remembered those days spent sneaking out there to get shitfaced under the sheltering trees. She felt sadness that those days were over, and bitterness at what they had eventually brought her.

"Really, and where's he now that we need him?"

"Luskan," she replied, "He's in Luskan with the rest of the scum of the earth."

"Couldn't have been much of a friend," Khelgar observed.

"Nope, he wasn't really," she said, "Plus his hooch made people blind as often as helping them having a good time."

"Lovely!" Khelgar commented, "We'll have to find some of that at some point. It'll be like fighting blindfolded! What a challenge."

Adahni must have given him a look, because he rolled his beady dark eyes. Then he paused. "Say, what's that there?" he asked, peering up ahead.

"Looks like some watchmen apprehending a bandit, why?" she asked. She jogged up a little further. There were three or four of them, surrounding what looked to be a girl wearing a costume. Upon closer inspection, the horns that she had taken for a hat were firmly rooted in her scalp amidst a crown of dark red hair, and the tail was twitching in a way that indicated it was, indeed, an appendage of the girl's body. The men were shouting threats, pushing her from one to the other, predatory looks on their faces. She was protesting, her voice shrill and panicked.

"Leave that woman alone!" Adahni demanded. She felt her blood boiling. This girl couldn't have been much more than seventeen, and some of their shoves were beginning to look more like grabs. What kind of men were these, dressed up in the cloaks of the law?

"This doesn't concern you," spat one of them, "Were soldiers from Fort Locke, hunting bandits."

"Really!" observed Adahni, "Because it looks like you've got a girl there and I'm not at all comfortable with what you're about to do with her."

The watchman looked at his friends, and back at Adahni. "You know," he said, "Three bandits would be worth more than one, wouldn't they."

The rage bubbled up from under the surface. Without drawing her sword, Adahni strode right up to the largest of the culprits, and backhanded him. "Bastard," she hissed. She drew her sword and hit him on the head with the hilt. Khelgar hacked one of them into submission, and the little tiefling headbutted the third in the face, her horns tearing holes in his cheeks. He screamed in pain and fell back.

Adahni delivered a few kicks to the head to the one that she had felled.

"Wow, thanks," the tiefling, "I guess I owe you one, don't I?"

"You act like I don't enjoy putting cocky bastards in their place," Adahni responded, "Are you all right?"

Khelgar muttered something rude about tieflings. Adahni shot him a look and he quieted down.

"A little worse for wear," the tiefling said. She drew a handkerchief out of her pocket and used it to wipe the blood from her horns, "I'll survive. Of course, wouldn't have even had this problem if that cheating bastard hadn't watered down my invisibility potion." She knelt down by the chest that the watchmen had been hoarding, fiddling with the lock until it sprang open under her hands. She took out some leathers, which she shimmied into, and a nasty looking dagger which she stuck in a holster by her left hip.

"So what did they want?" asked Adahni.

"My head," said the girl, rolling her dark red eyes, "It's been that way ever since the new fort commander posted bounties on bandits. Some of his soldiers have been hunting down anyone they find on the road and claiming they're 'bandits'."

"So you're a tiefling?"

"Shhhh," she said, "Don't tell anybody...the horns aren't obvious enough! But I do, have name, you know. I wouldn't go around addressing you as "dwarf" or you as "aasimar" would I?"

"I'm not an aasimar," Adahni replied, furrowing her brow. She thought about it for a moment. It was possible, she supposed. Until that night in the burning village, she hadn't had an inkling that she might have dragon blood. But now that she thought about it...

"Could have fooled me," the tiefling said, sniffing, "You've got the smell of the celestial on you... or that might be stale beer... but you don't get eyes that color from any earthly father. But my name, if you were still interested, is Neeshka."

"Gesundheit," Khelgar grunted, chuckling at his own joke.

"So, do you think... do you think I could join you? I can't take much of a hit," Neeshka asked bashfully, "And you saw what they were going to do to me?"

"I also saw you pick that lock," Adahni said, glancing down at the chest, "You'd be welcome, as long as you don't slow us down."

"Can't say I trust her. Tieflings'll stab you in the back and run off with your purse the moment you drop your guard." Khelgar added.

"Nobody asked you for your two coppers," Adahni chided.

"Yeah? Well, dwarves are squat, smelly drunks who'll chop someone in half just to show they're tough!" the tiefling squealed.

"Oh, is that so? Why don't you step down here and say that again!"

Adahni sat herself down on a rock and watched the two trade words. She took out a spent scroll and rolled it around some of her pipeweed stash. With a few bars of a song, she lit the thing on fire, stuck it in her mouth, and smoked it. It was a habit that Dayven had had, smoking the little cylinders instead of a pipe, and she found she still enjoyed it now that he was out of her life. She had to admit, whatever Khelgar's flaws, she enjoyed his company, and this tiefling, while a little shrill, seemed nice enough. Although, if this was how they bickered when they had just met, she had no high hopes for the rest of the journey.


	3. If You Don't Like Me

Fort Locke wasn't really much of a fort; just a loosely put together circle of pointy sticks held together with twine and mud. Inside was even less impressive; a few crumbling stone structures in the corners, but more dirty wool tents dotting the grass, surrounded by equally dirty people. Refugees, from the looks of them. Adahni surveyed the area, looking for whomever it was that was in charge. Instead, her eyes fell on a dreadfully familiar face. Cormick Lainsford, West Harbor's favorite son.

"Well met!" he called as she tried to hide her face. He hurried up to her and immediately began pumping her fist with the enthusiasm of a neglected puppy. Sighing, she forced a smile, "Have you run into a rather talkative merchant on your way here? He should have been traveling with two bodyguards. Name of Galen."

"Never heard of him," Adahni said.

"Ah… I see," Cormick said, his face growing troubled. Either he didn't recognize her or he was pretending he didn't, "I hope he's safe. I'm worried he didn't bring along enough guards for his latest trip to West Harbor. You look familiar. You wouldn't happen to be a Harborman by any change, are you?"

_Bullshit. He knows very well who I am and where I'm from. If this the game he wants to play, then I'll play._"Yes I am, why do you ask?"

"Harbormen are hard to miss once you've met one, and I've met plenty being from West Harbor myself. I'm Cormick, City Watch Marshal of Neverwinter City. You wouldn't have heard of me – a city watchman is hardly a glamorous profession."

"Hmph!" Neeshka grunted, expressing exactly how she felt about the City Watch. She crossed her arms and sized up Cormick with a skeptical look on her face.

_Arrogant prick._"Cormick? You're famous in West Harbor, or so they say."

"Ha! I don't know about famous. West Harbor's a small village though, so I'm not surprised you know of me... Wait a moment, I recognize you," he said, the corners of his mouth turning down, "You're Daeghun's foster child. You've gotten taller, and stouter. How is the old man nowadays?"

"Just fine," she replied, suddenly coldly polite. The Cormick she remembered was a broad-shouldered lout who had managed to make her life miserable all throughout her early years. Adult Cormick seemed a bit more mature, but certainly not the type she would choose to spend time with.

"He seems to have done a good job raising you. So tell me, what are you doing so far away from West Harbor?"

"I have my reasons," she replied.

"Well," he said, averting his eyes, seemingly aware that she remembered him, and hopefully embarrassed at his youthful behavior, "If you're ever in Neverwinter and need work, I'm sure I could find something for you. We Harbormen look out for each other."

_Meaning you feel bad for the way you treated me all those years. That's a start._

"Is Lorne Starling in Neverwinter?" she asked, "Remember him at all?"

"Lorne?" Cormick said, furrowing his brow, "Haven't heard from him since he first arrived in Neverwinter some years back. Tried to get him to join the Watch, but he preferred the Greycloaks. I poked around, looking for him. I doubt he deserted, and I wouldn't have the heart to tell Retta he fell in battle."

"Ah," Adahni sighed. It wasn't a conclusive answer, she supposed, "I'm hoping to head on to Neverwinter after I've gotten my act together and was hoping to have a bit of gold in my pocket once I get there. Do you know if there's any mercenary work about?"

"You'd want to ask Lieutenant Vallis. He hangs out by the barracks at the end of the camp. Long hair, bad mustache. Not my favorite person, but he'll give you coin if you can give him results."

"I see," Adahni replied, "Well met, Cormick. I'll bid you farewell for now."

"Wait," he said, "I have a question for you."

"All right."

"Dayven Elhandrien," he said, "Whatever happened to him?"

"Thrice-damned if I know," Adahni replied, "Kicked him to the curb ages ago."

A smile broke across Cormick's face, "Glad to hear that, Farlong."

"Farishta," she corrected him, "I go by Farishta."

"Farishta then. Remember what I said about Neverwinter. Always looking for a capable set of hands on our side."

"My hands," she replied, "Are more than capable."

"Like hells we'd join the Watch," Neeshka whispered, "Was he always that pompous?"

"Worse," Adahni said, "If I had a copper for every time that little bastard put a frog down my shirt, I'd be the richest woman this side of the River Mirar."

They looked around for a bit, testing the edges of some of the weaponsmith's wares and grabbing sandwiches and ales from a refugee woman selling them. Then Neeshka announced she was tired, and Khelgar agreed, and the three of them stretched out on sleeping pallets in the midst of the refugee village. The nights hadn't gotten terribly cold yet, but Adahni still didn't sleep terribly well, even with her woolen cloak wrapped tightly about her. After the sun was up, they found the next man she wanted to talk to. The way he was dressed indicated that he was a step above the rank and file soldiers of the sort that were assaulting the tiefling on the road outside. He had cheesy long hair and an ill-grown mustache that Adahni imagined he thought was dashing.

She approached him cautiously.

"Ah, a stranger in Fort Locke... if there's something you want, be quick about it – I have a garrison to run."

"If I were you," Adahni said, smiling broadly and innocently, "I'd watch your tongue."

"Same could be said for you. What do you want? I'm a busy man," Vallis said.

"Odd," she said, "You don't look busy. In fact, you look like you're just standing here doing a fat lot of nothing. Are you in charge here?"

"I'm observing," he said disdainfully, "You wouldn't know the first thing about command. What can I do for you, stranger?"

"I'm looking for some spare coin," Adahni said, "I've three good sword arms with very few scruples. Have any work for me?"

"Work? Not unless you're planning on signing up for garrison duty here. We've lost a number of patrols recently, including one led by Commander Tann. I'm not about to send good men chasing after dead ones... not until I can replace those that we lost. They had been sent to investigate some disturbances at an old cemetery about a mile out of town."

Adahni, who had grown bored with his mumbling, was checking her nails when she realized that he was done and expect an answer, "What if I were to handle this for you?"

"You're a civilian, helping a military garrison with an investigation? Why?"

"I expect to be well paid. I hear 'old cemetery' duty has a high instance of being creeped out. I do so hate being creeped out," Adahni said.

"So you're a mercenary. Commander Tann was quite willing to work with your kind."

"Yes, I'm a mercenary. Did you miss the part where I said I had three good sword-arms and was in need of coin?" she said. _Mercenary, _she thought, _I rather like the sound of that. Sounds dashing. Adventurous. Rakish. _

"Given the shortage of men here," the lieutenant said gingerly, making it clear that he wanted her to sign on but that he didn't want to seem too enthusiastic, "I see no alternative. How much?"

"300," she said, tilting her chin out aggressively.

"For a mercenary? A little woman from West Harbor with armor that's barely dented? I think not. I won't go a copper over 200. Head east of here, that's where the patrols disappeared. Haven't heard any reports of trouble there recently, so I have no idea what you should be expecting."

"Fine," she said, "200 it is."

"I do hope you won't disappoint me."

They turned and left. As soon as they were out of earshot, Adahni looked to Neeshka. "He'll pay us 300 whether he likes it or not. Do you think you have it in you to burgle the lockbox I saw in the barracks?"

"I think we're going to get along just fine," Neeshka said, smiling from ear to ear. They left Fort Locke and started down the long road down the hill.

"Disappoint him indeed," grumbled Khelgar, "I don't see why we couldn't have stopped and had an ale or six before setting out on the road again."

"It's barely morning, Khelgar," Adahni chided him.

"Is that all you ever think about?" Neeshka asked, "I've known you for about two hours now and I've heard you ask for a drink five or six times!" The two commenced bickering again as they made it down the hill and into the woods. Adahni tuned them out, concentrated on the path.

"Oy!" Adahni called, raising her hand for them to stop, "Looks like we've got company."

"Stop right there!"

_Gods almighty those stupid haircuts sure are popular around these parts._The man stopping them was slightly built with orange hair cut in the same style as the lieutenant that had been so rude to them.

"All that walk this road must pay a toll of 10 gold – hand it over and you can go your way."

Adahni chuckled. The men behind him were armed with bows. She was Daeghun's daughter; she could see just by the way they held them that not one of them was experienced enough to be a decent shot. She recognized the leader, too. He was Cormick at age fourteen, and Dayven, and half of the men she had met in Luskan, and all the self-important bullies who thought that they could impose their will on others just because they happened to be the biggest fish in their respective ponds. "What do you think, Khelgar?"

"They're a scrawny lot," Khelgar grunted, smirking, "Shouldn't be much of a fight."

"Listen, sweetheart," Adahni said, addressing the leader and his haircut, "This really isn't worth your lives. Leave now and I'll leave you intact."

"Sweetheart?" the leader cried incredulously, "_You're_ the ones that are going to get hurt! Come on, lads! Attack!"

"Well this would be really, really embarrassing way to die," Neeshka said, "Thrice damned if I'm gonna let these pathetic thugs kill me where I stand."

As luck would have it, Neeshka did take quite a drubbing. When all the bandits were on the ground, Adahni bandaged her up, and she was nearly right as rain, and showed it by stripping the bodies of all their valuables.

"Think we ought to bury them?" Khelgar asked, scratching his head.

"Yeah," Neeshka said, "Why don't we embalm them and give them the Rites of Tyr and erect a tomb over them while we're at it. For someone who does so much killing, you're awfully squeamish about the aftermath.

"Well, we're heading out to see a lot of dead people now," said Adahni, "So you both are gonna have to get used to it. I only hope that they're actually dead and not walking around batting at us with pointy sticks."

Of course they would have no such luck. The welcoming committee at the local graveyard consisted of several zombies and a few skeletal warriors. Adahni did what she did best. It was becoming boring by this point, and since they were already dead she didn't feel her usual pang of guilt. "Fucking die already," she sighed, plunging her sword into a still-wriggling zombie. "What in the hells is with this place?"

"Someone or something's behind this," Khelgar said, his moustaches twitching, "The dead just don't get up on their own." He plunged his axe through the skull of a zombie.

"Let me guess," Adahni said, whacking the head off of a skeleton, "It's the same someone or something that's behind the disappearance of the patrols. Seriously, sometimes I feel like I'm the star of some poorly-written epic."

"_You're_the star?" Neeshka said, "Yeah right. Is she always this much of a diva?"

"Hah!" Khelgar cried, dispatching the final skeleton, "Like someone would write an epic starring a red-eyed tiefling with the all the moral character of a Luskan prostitute!"

"That's a little harsh on Luskan whores," Adahni said, plopping down on the ground in exhaustion, "I hear your mother's quite a lady!"

"Ohh, Farishta, is it a fight you're looking for? My mother was a saint!"

"Yeah? Well mine was a Luskan whore!" she replied.

"I like the cut of your jib, Farishta," Khelgar said.

She sighed, "Well how long are we going to sit here and fuck around before we actually have to figure out what in the nine hells is going on around here?"

"We just wasted about two minutes," Neeshka replied.

"All right," sighed Adahni, "Let's go then. My guess is that large, ostentatious crypt might be a very convenient place for whatever creepy crawlies are lurking around here."

"I don't see why we couldn't have gotten to the bandit's camp first," Neeshka grumbled, "Then at least we'd have some loot to look forward to."

"Is that all you think about?" Khelgar retorted.

"Be nice and I'll let you rob some graves," Adahni said, jumping to her feet.

"La di fucking da," Neeshka muttered, as the descended in the pitch black depths of the crypt.

Usually, Adahni had a pretty high tolerance for "creepy," but something about the stale air of the tomb set her on edge. There were a few marauding bands of undead, but nothing really too bad. The walls seemed to be closing in on them as they plunged deeper into the tomb.

The first thing that got to her was the fact that someone, or something, had lit all of the torches that lined the halls. It had once been the tomb of kings and priests, the carvings on the wall told her. Now it was the home of whatever unspeakable evil that had sent the dead to walk the earth and the cold chills up Adahni's spine. The torches, too, made her nervous because she really wasn't sure how good the ventilation. Fire and people, she had learned, breathed the same kind of air. But it was either that or walk in there blind.

Neeshka seemed to be having an all right time of it, bounding along the twisting passages, tearing open the sarcophagi and stuffing whatever valuables they held into her satchel. Khelgar trailed behind, forever turning around and around, waiting for something to jump out at them.

They turned and turned again. The air grew mustier and mustier, the cobwebs thicker along the walls, the tombs more and more ancient. And then there, in the very bowels of the earth, she saw a strange purple light coming from the outline of a door. "I have a bad feeling about this," Khelgar rumbled softly.

"You want to turn back?"

"Not a chance."

The light was emanating from the end of the room. Two figures stood there, one who wore armor with the insignia of Fort Locke on it. The second was cloaked and cowled and wore a particularly evil-looking mask.

"Attack, my children," it rumbled, "Let us add their corpses to our army."

"Great," Neeshka whined, "More zombies?"

Adahni struck out with her sword, catching one of the zombies in the head. It fell to the ground. They dispatched them in a matter of minutes. The cowled figure gave a hideous yell as he crumpled to the earth.

The other man walked up to them. He was tall and middle-aged with streaks of gray in his yellow hair. He looked as though he hadn't slept for days – and given that he had been in the midst of that very tomb for several days – he probably hadn't. "It's a miracle you came along. I was certain I'd joining the corpses down here soon enough."

"Commander Tann?" she guessed.

"Aye," he replied.

"What... what is going on here?" she asked, "I mean, I see the zombies and all, but who was that man in the mask?" She looked over at the corpse. She was tempted to go and unmask him, but reasoned that that would just be morbid. Identifying the culprit was not in the job description given to her by Lieutenant Vallis, and damned if she was going to go above and beyond the call of duty for a mere two hundred gold.

"Not entirely sure," Tann replied, "He… interrogated… me pretty well when he caught me. Troops numbers, defenses of Fort Locke."

"Was he planning an assault?" she asked.

"You fought through most of his forces to get to me. We both know he didn't have enough to bring down the Fort."

"I'm sure the Fort would have held," Adahni said, furrowing her brow, "Was he acting alone?"

"He spoke with a... well, a shade of some sort from time to time. I heard a name – Black Garius. I gather he's the one giving orders."

"Gods almighty," she muttered, "Well, are you able to travel?"

"The Shadow Priests tossed me around for a bit, but it wasn't anything serious. I can travel. I was separated from my men as we fought our way in. Some may still be down here. If they're still alive, I won't feel right leaving here, but I also need to return to the fort," he fell silent for a moment, as though mulling over his choices, "I'll leave it up to you. If we return to the fort, I'd appreciate it if you would make a return trip and try to find them."

Adahni looked over the commander. He seemed to be in fair health, "Let's look for your men. How many do you think there are?"

"Aww, Addie, do we really always have to go chasing after boys?" Neeshka whined mockingly.

"Hush you," Adahni replied.

"I had three men with me when we entered this crypt. I hope they're all still alive. We should get moving. The longer we wait, the less likely we are to find any of them alive."

With surprising agility for a man his age, Tann leapt up from the ground and led the way out of the room. "Hold up there!" Neeshka called. She had been fiddling with the lock on a large chest that stood in the corner of the room, "I think I might have found something important." She held high a scrap of parchment with a scribbled note on it. 'The first sentence is cut off, but it ends with '...the edge of the Mere. The site has been lightly traveled for decades visited regularly only by patrols from a nearby garrison. Enough material exists for a small army. It will serve our purposes for now."

"Great," Adahni called, "That does us no good if we're still down here with the army. Let's go!"

The descended further into the crypt. The ensconced torches gave way to great burning braziers, the light of which danced off the cobwebbed rafters. The air, despite this, grew cold and clammy. They found two men alive and one dead, though by the good graces of whatever god ruled that place he had not been turned into one of the eyeless, faceless, horrors that populated the crypt.

"I thank you for finding my men for me," the commander said, still kneeling by the body of the patrolman, "It's... it's time we return to the fort. I've got to prepare the men for what we found down here."

"I doubt anyone could prepare them for this," she said, sighing, "Let's go, then."


	4. A Roll in the Hay

When Adahni was running drills through the swamp, waist deep in slime, she never imagined that it would amount to much. But the next day, leaving Fort Locke, she realized that, for the first time, she was leaving a place in better condition than she had found it in. Better commander, no more bandits, and she'd even managed to hold onto two decent swordsmen, who, for whatever their reasons, had her back. Her next stop, would be Highcliff – easier to get to Neverwinter by sea than land, after all. They tramped through the wilds, hacking branches out of their path, along what Neeshka insisted was a shortcut around the main road.

"Sing us a song!" demanded Khelgar, "I'm bored, I need something to entertain this mind of mine."

"What, you're sick of the moonshine song?"

"I'm out of verses," he said.

"Well then," she said, "What kind of song?"

"Sex and violence!" Neeshka piped up.

"If you say so..." Adahni said. She took a drum out of her pack that she had found in the bandits' lair. It has some magic properties, she knew, but it was still just leather stretched over a wooden frame. She tucked her three middle fingers into her palm, skittering her thumb and little finger over the head of the drum to make a rhythm.

_I met her in the mornin' and I had her in the night_

_I'd never gone that way before and had to do it right_

_I never would have found it and I never would have guessed_

_If she hadn't showed me where to find the cuckoo's nest!"_

Neeshka, apparently knew, the song, laughing and skipping along merrily, singing the chorus along with her, even throwing in a bit of harmony.

_"Hey the cuckoo! Ho the cuckoo! Hi the cuckoo's nest!_

_Hey the cuckoo! Hi the cuckoo! Ho the cuckoo's nest!_

_To him I'll give a tankard and a bottle of the best_

_That'll rumple up the feathers in the cuckoos nest_!"

About midway through the chorus, a look of realization came over Neeshka's features, and she began to howl with laughter. She had, Adahni saw, gotten the gist of the song.

_"She showed me where to find it and she showed me where to go_

_Through the prickles and the brambles where the little cuckoo's grow,_

_From the moment that I found it she would never let me rest_

_Till I'd rumpled up the feathers of the cuckoo's nest._

_It was thorny, it was prickled, it was deathered all around_

_It was tucked into a corner where it wasn't easy found,_

_She said, "Young man, you're blundering." I said it wasn't true_

_I left her with the makings of a young cuckoo."_

When she finished the song, Neeshka was roaring with laughter, barely able to keep pace. Khelgar scratched his head. "What in the hells is so funny?" he asked. Adahni giggled at how funny Neeshka found the song.

"Not you too," Khelgar said, "I don't get it, what's all that about a bird's nest, then? And why is it so damned funny?

"It's not real nest," said Adahni, "It's something else."

"Why are there feathers in the nest? I thought birds built their nests from straw! And why's it in a corner?"

"It's not a real bird's nest," Neeshka explained, gasping for air, "The man in the song is talking about... about a woman's naughty bits!"

Adahni chuckled at Neeshka's explanation of the whole thing. Khelgar went red.

"All right," he said, "Suddenly it all makes sense. Let's just... no more songs for awhile, eh?"

He was right, there would be no songs for awhile, if only for the reason that they had run smack dab into a group of those damned gray dwarves, lead by one of those disgusting spiky things. "Uh oh," Neeshka said, hiding behind Adahni and peeking out with those deep red eyes.

"Looks like we've got company," Khelgar growled, unhooking his ax from where it hung on his back and brandishing it threateningly.

"No place to run this time, _kalach-cha!_" the leathery black creature said, his voice strangely strangulated.

"Gesundheit," Khelgar called.

"That which you have stolen... hand it over, and we may let you live."

"Fuck off!" Neeshka called out, rudely, peeping out from behind Adahni's shoulder.

She heard the call before she saw who had made it. Suddenly, the ground began to sprout vines where there were none before. The vines crawled up the legs of their adversaries, holding them to the ground. The bladeling gurgled something to his companions, but Adahni had already given shrill cry and rushed forward, hefting her sword into its skull and ripping it out. She turned just in time to see an elf in a brown dress rushing down the hill, an angry badger at her heels. She turned her attention back to the fight, kicking one duergar in the head and plunging her sword into his neck.

When the corpses littered the ground, the elf approached her.

"You walk a strange path for a harborman," she commented. So it was a woman, Adahni observed, you couldn't always tell with elves, "Forgive me, but I found I could not simply stand by while you were ambushed, again."

"So you're watching me, then," Adahni said, folding her arms about her chest, "How long?"

"I watch all within the Mere," the elf replied, turning hazel eyes on Neeshka and Khelgar.

"Well that's not a little creepy," Adahni said, "What do you want, so that we may give it to you and be on our way?" She didn't like the way she talked or the way she watched. She had the sickening sense that she had seen this elf before, many years ago. She did not care to think on how.

"I... I wish to walk with you," the elf replied, "I might be of use; I know a swifter way to Highcliff. And it's painful watching you tramp through the Mere, missing paths right in front of your eyes."

"Can't stop you if this is where you want to walk."

"A little short on gratitude," the elf replied, "Very well. This is the path I shall walk. I am Elanee, of the Circle of the Mere."

"Druid then," Adahni said, "Very well, come along."

"You have got to be kidding me," grumbled Khelgar. Adahni followed Elanee's retreating back into the forest, shrugging her ambivalence.

After several hours and a few angry woodland creatures, they bedded down for the night. They camped under some sheltering trees at the edge of the Mere. The town of Highcliff was in the distance, but too far away to journey there that night. Adahni had been wise enough to buy a bedroll in Fort Locke, while Khelgar and Neeshka had been traveling long enough to have their own. Elanee, however, climbed the nearest tree and stretched out on one of the branches. The other three lay drowsily around the campfire, passing around a pipe.

"So, Khelgar?" asked Adahni, "You have a wife back in... wherever the hell you're from?"

"No, not really," Khelgar replied, blowing a smoke ring from between his bearded lips.

"What do you mean, not really?"

"I had a girl, a buxom blond who could drink me under the table and still call out for more. Helvynn Hammerforge... by Clangeddin's left pinky she was a beauty. But she was from a rival clan. Her brothers forbade the marriage, and gave me broken nose and two black eyes to make sure it really sunk in."

"That's awful!" Neeshka exclaimed, "That's so not fair."

"Well, it sent me on this journey I'm on now," Khelgar said, "And it taught me how to swing my ax a little harder, so's I would be humiliated by the likes of them ever again."

"Neesh, I'm surprise," said Adahni, "I wouldn't have thought you'd have cared."

"But it isn't _fair_," Neeshka said again, "I mean, even if they're just a couple of stumpy dwarves, if they were in love they ought to be together. You can't make rules like that, it's like making a rule that says fire isn't allowed to be hot!"

"Well thanks for your sympathy," Khelgar said, only a little sarcastically, "You know, she said to me, before I left, that she'd find me someday, wherever my travels took me. And who knows, maybe she will."

"It's still stupid," Neeshka grumbled. She laid back, arms under her head, and pouted.

"Is that what happened to your parents, then?" asked Adahni.

"I wouldn't know," Neeshka replied, "I was dumped on the doorstep of the Temple of Helm in Neverwinter a few days after I was born. But I'd like to think that maybe it was like that, that they were lovers who couldn't get married. Better than the alternative."

Adahni nodded.

"So what about you, Addie?" asked Khelgar, "Did you leave a sweetheart behind in West Harbor?"

"Not really," she said, shuddering. She thought of Dayven again, the younger Dayven, the one she had loved as only a teenager can love, "I've not had a very good track record when it comes to that sort of thing."

"I see," Neeshka said, "So you've taken a few rolls in the hay but nothing's come of it?"

"Yeah, that's it," Adahni replied, laughing, "Well, part of it anyway, and the only part I care to remember! Why, does that strike a chord with you?"

Neeshka giggled, "You'd be surprised how many men like their women a little _hornier_ than usual." She took a puff of the pipe and pointed to the two sharp appendages protruding just above her eyebrows. The two women laughed heartily at the pun, but Khelgar hid his head, embarrassed.

"Would you two be quiet?" Elanee called from the tree, "I can barely hear myself think, let alone sleep!"

"Well, she's obnoxious," Neeshka said, "But she's right. We have long boat ride ahead of us, and I always get more seasick when I'm sleepy."

As luck would have it, nothing of the sort would happen. Highcliff was at the base of a small mountain and, as its name would suggested, atop some high cliffs on the shore. Adahni could tell something was wrong as soon as she got into town. The people had that desperate look they got in their eyes when something was off. As they walked into the center of town, she saw a flash and heard a deep _boom. _A ship barely out of the harbor was in flames, and slowly sank beneath the lapping waves of the harbor.

"What in the hells…" she gasped.

"Foolish captain insisted on sailing for Port Llast against our advice," an old man standing in the street said by way of an explanation, "Lizardmen have been doing that to every ship that tries to leave the harbor. They molest the ships at sea and the farmers near the base of the mountain. Whole damn town's going to the dogs."

"Yes, and I imagine it all has to do with the damn kids and their disrespect and modern music," Adahni replied sourly, realizing the her journey to Neverwinter rather hinged on her being able to sail out of the harbor, "And you are?"

"Elder Mayne," the old man said, sticking a hand, "I'm the mayor."

"Ah," she said, "Sorry about the jab then. What's this about lizardmen?"

"Lizardmen," Elder Mayne said, "They're kind of like men… but kind of like lizards…"

"I know what lizardmen are," Adahni said, "I grew up in West Harbor, I saw them a few times as a child. They were odd creatures, but never hostile. What's going on here?"

"The expanding of humans has pushed them from their homeland," Elanee said, "What you're seeing is the natural consequence of transgressing their land."

Elder Mayne looked at the elf contemptuously. "We've kept to the same borders for a century, elf. Try again."

"Is there any way to parley with them?" Adahni asked.

"We're not sure where they're coming from," the mayor replied, "A group of adventurers sought them out in the ruins of Highcliff Castle several days ago, but they haven't been back yet. I can't risk sending our militia up – keeping order in the town has their hands full!"

"Adventurers, you say," Adahni said, "As luck would have it, I know exactly where you could find four more."

"And you are?" Elder Mayne asked, looking her up and down skeptically.

"Adahni Farishta," she said, "This is Khelgar Ironfist, Elanee of the Circle of the Mere, and Neeshka… just Neeshka. We may not look like much but… what do you really have to lose?"

The old man sighed, but nodded, acknowledging that she had a point. "All right. You're going to want to talk to Shandra Jerro. She's the last farmer that hasn't come to take refuge in town. I imagine the lizardmen will be after her crops sooner or later. She's about a mile out of town to the north. You might also talk to Mozah, young fellow, lives in the thatched hut on the way to the Jerro farm. He led the first set of adventurers on their way – though I'd take whatever he has to say with a grain of salt – he may be the one who led them to their death."

"Not a problem, Elder Mayne," Adahni said. They exited the village and found first the hut where Mozah lived.

Adahni rapped on the door. The door creaked open. Behind it stood quite a handsome young man, wearing nothing but a loincloth.

"Great Tyr!" he exclaimed, slamming the door shut, "Quite sorry, ladies, I thought you were…"

"I don't care who it is you answer the door in your underwear for," Adahni called, "I want to know about that group of adventurers you took up to Highcliff Castle last week."

"Ah, yes," the young man said. He opened the door again. This time he was wearing, pants, at least, "Them. I did guide them up to Highcliff Castle – or what's left of it. Nothing but a ruin, really. Actually, those bastards gipped me. They promised me five hundred gold in total, two hundred when they left and three when they got back. Only… they didn't get back."

"And whose fault was that?" Adahni asked.

"Hey!" Mozah exclaimed, "They paid me to guide them there. I helped them fight off a couple of hostile lizardmen on the way up. I got them to the gate, and I got out of there, just like what we agreed upon. Do you think… do you think if you come by them you could bring them back? I need that money. I… I want to be an adventurer myself, and that was my armor money."

"I see," Adahni said, "I'll do my best. If I get out of there myself."

"It'd be a shame if you didn't, group of pretty ladies like you," Mozah said, winking, and shutting the door.

"Hey!" Khelgar exclaimed, "I ain't no lady."

"Sure and ain't enough ale in the world to make me mistake you for one!" Mozah called from inside.

They progressed north through the woods, which eventually thinned and opened onto a small farmhouse and fields. Ten acres at the most, Adahni observed. Hardly big enough to warrant buying pack animals. The house was small, but charming, and the barn doors were open to reveal that year's crop stacked within like gold. Above it rose the ruins of a castle, set right into the rock. It was an impressive sight, the humble farmhouse and barn and field of barley below such an imposing old building.

The farmer was within view, in the field nearest the house. "What do you want?" she called.

"Directions to Highcliff Castle," Adahni said, "I can see it quite well, but I'm not entirely sure how to get from point A to point B, if you know what I mean."

Shandra walked up to them. She was a very pretty woman in her mid thirties, her ash blond hair tied back and sweat streaking her brow. "Did Elder Mayne send you? Who are you?'

Adahni was taken aback, not expecting hostility from the woman. She pitched her voice carefully, made her words cold as the falling snow. "My name is Adahni Farishta," she said, "And yes, Mayne sent me here. For Tyr's sake, I only wanted directions. If you can't spare five minutes to give them to me, I'd be happy to move along."

"Sorry," Shandra sighed, "There's been too many visitors lately, and I really don't have the patience for it anymore. I've been alone out here ever since the others abandoned their farms and took shelter in Highcliff... trying to protect the grain shipments into Highcliff before winter hits. I don't know how much longer I can hold out."

"Maybe you should let it go," Adahni suggested gently.

This turned out to be the wrong stratagem.

"Let it go!" Shandra cried incredulously, "I'm supposed to be making the runs out to Port Llast and Ember right now, but gods damn it all I can't even leave the town for thirty minutes to get into Highcliff! Not the mention the merchant road is blocked by whatever the fuck it is out there murdering everyone who dares to… tell me, Adahni Farishta, how am I supposed to 'let it go' when I'm the only one with the balls to stick around and make sure those ungrateful little pissants down there are fed?"

"Fine, fine, no sense in giving yourself a stroke," Adahni replied, rolling her eyes, "Look, I just wanted directions. Maybe I should come back when you're not on your monthly courses."

"On my… You have got to be the rudest woman I have ever met!" she cried.

Adahni saw movement from the corner of her eye. She thought for a moment that she might warn the farmer, but as the woman was still hurling insults in her direction, she could not get a word in edgewise. By the time Shandra was done calling her every name in the book, the barn was in blazes. The farmer looked at her, panting with the effort of her insults, and waited for a reaction.

"I think your barn needs some attention," Adahni pointed out. Three lizardmen scurried away from the burning barn. Shandra let loose another slew of cursing, culminating in her ordering them all off her land before she went and got the wand of magic missiles she kept for just such occasions.

"Fine, fine," Adahni said, "If you need an extra rag, I carry them around, you know…"

The four of them did as she asked and left the land, heading up into the hills. They found a path after a couple of hours of searching. Within the castle, there were lizardmen, to be sure, but more worrisome than that were the eyeless zombies and undead that accosted them. If anything, Adahni thought, it looked as though the lizardmen had, too, been fighting the zombies. A few yards into the ruins, they came across one living, who was putting up quite a fight against a group of undead.

Khelgar and Adahni made short work of them with their blades, and Khelgar turned to the lizardmen.

"No!" hissed the lizardman, "Slaan not fight you. Promise!"

"I don't see how that's relevant to me killing you," Adahni said.

The lizardman looked about desperately, his tongue lolling out as he thought of a way out of this one. "Slaan _very _important lizardmen. Slaan leads warriors to sink ships. If you let Slaan live, Slaan will tell chief to stop!"

"I don't trust him," Khelgar said.

"I don't trust you," Adahni repeated.

"Very well! Slaan will… Slaan will help you! Yes he will! Then, when evil zombies killed, Slaan take you to chief and _you _can tell chief to stop sinking boats!"

"Very well," Adahni said, "But you go first."

Slaan eagerly lead the way into the castle. Adahni kept her eyes on his scaly green back as he advanced into the darkness, hoping she was not heading into a trap. They came across more undead, and they seemed to be just as interested in lizard flesh as man flesh.

In the crypt below Fort Locke, Adahni had not made much of the shadowy figure in the eerie mask. He was just some psychopathic warlock with nothing better to do than summon zombies assuage his fragile ego. She had watched Khelgar split him in two, sang a little healing ditty for Commander Tann, and thought nothing of it after they'd returned to the garrison. But now, in the dank ruins of Highcliff Castle, faced with another man, a little taller this time, but in that same creepy mask, she realized that this whole thing might be a bit bigger than she had bargained for. She felt Slaan tense beside her as the man declared his loyalty out loud to someone called the Master of the Fifth Tower.

"This is not good," she declared.

"Nope," agreed Khelgar, "I wonder how many of them there are."

"No more than you can take down, I'm sure," Adahni said, "Shall we?"

"Do we have a choice?"

"No."

They put him down, much like they had done his brother in Fort Locke. They found no cryptic notes on his body, nor anything else that would tie him to the other besides the mask, no mention of a Black Garius or anything. Slaan hefted his trident into his neck, and nudged the mask to the ground. The face behind it was human, male, with a few tattoos marking his forehead. Adahni stopped to examine them.

"Interesting," she said, "Those tattoos are popular with Hosttower mages. Though, I suppose, he could be a poser."

"And how would you know that?" Neeshka asked suspiciously, "The Hosttower are _Luskan._" She spat out the word 'Luskan' like it tasted terrible. Adahni didn't blame her.

"I'm a bard," Adahni said, by way of an explanation, "We study these things."

With the undead put to their final rest, the lizardmen proved amenable to a compromise. Slaan lead them to a clearing several miles into the forest, where his chief and his fellow warriors lay. A large pile of explosives sat at the edge of their camp, and Adahni saw what had been used on the ship she had seen as they entered the village. As it turned out, it was not the humans that had put them out of their territory, but this shadow priest and his minions. Neeshka looked smugly at Elanee as Slaan explained this, translating for his chief.

She was able to put lizardmen and creepy hooded priests out of her mind that night, reveling in the gratitude of Highcliff's people. It seemed as though the whole village wanted to buy them drinks. Khelgar, Neeshka, and Adahni enjoyed this, of course, but Elanee slipped out of the inn in the middle of the night and would not be found. Well, that's what Adahni imagined. Not that she was going to leave the party to go looking for her.

"I see you're a better soldier than my former employers." Adahni looked up to see Mozah, the young mercenary whose back pay she had brought back from the castle. He'd been fully clothed when she stopped by his house to give it to him, something she was a bit disappointed about. The adventurers who had hired him had, apparently, not been too good at their jobs, and had wound up as eyeless, undead creatures protecting that shadowy priest. She had not seen him at the inn earlier, but he must have been there a good long time, for he'd a twinkle in his dark eyes that only came with a few pints. He walked up to her, a full tankard of ale in both hands. One of these he set in front of her, seating himself across the table from her.

"Who knows," she replied, winking, "I might secretly be a zombie, too, and then I might eat you alive."

"I guess that's a risk I'm going to have to take. You should drink that ale," he said.

"And why's that?" she asked, "You think you're the first lad here to buy me one?"

"Drink it, so that I don't feel embarrassed drinking mine, and maybe once I've done that I'll have the courage to ask you to dance."

"Do I look that clumsy?" she asked.

"I'm the clumsy one," he replied, "But those heavy boots of yours will protect your feet, and perhaps my dignity."

"All right then," she said, "Drink it down then. On three!"

A few of the villagers surrounding the table played along, counting along with her. She drained the tankard in two gulps. It was heady stuff, and she felt a little tipsy as she rose to take Mozah's hand. There was a small band playing in the corner, and she put her arm around his shoulders to steady herself as they struck up a jig and they began to dance.

"You're quite a woman, Adahni..."

"Farishta," she said, after a moment's hesitation. Her mother's last name, Daeghun had told her, was Maverley. Farishta was her father's name, the only bit of information that her mother had divulged, according to Daeghun, about the man who had sired her. The villagers had always called her Farlong, like Daeghun, but now that she was out of Westharbor, she thought she might use this one. She liked the sound of it with her first name. Addie Farlong was just a smelly harborman, but Adahni Farishta was a force to be reckoned with.

"Adahni Farishta," Mozah repeated, twirling her around, "You're quite a woman, Adahni Farishta."

She drank down a few more pints by the time the night was through, and favored two other village lads with a dance, as well as Elder Mayne who seemed to be in a better mood than when she had told him of the bargain she had made with the lizards' chief. Mozah, however, turned out to be a constant presence. He was just a simple lad, a farmer's son, and when he'd drunk enough to get the courage to stoop and kiss her, she didn't feel threatened at all. She laughed inwardly at Neeshka's whoops, but kissed him back, and felt that, perhaps, things might turn out all right after all. She had been a hero that day, but now she just felt like a simple woman.

The next morning she awoke with straw in her hair and the boy's arms still about her neck. She smiled up at the sky, where the sun was already above the horizon. She had managed to get her breeches back on, she saw, which was a good sign, but her boots and equipment were still on the ground beside the haystack where she lay.

"What in the hells..." she heard a woman's voice. She sat bolt upright, fumbling with her boots. Mozah followed her, laughing quietly.

"I guess I should make a run for it," he said, smiling at her, "Mistress Jerro's a bit particular about her produce, especially at this time of year. You're fine, but I still have to live in the same village as her."

In the dark of the night, the giggling Adahni had not recognized the field that the boy had lead her to, but now under the daylight, she saw the familiar house, the blackened ruin of the barn that the lizardmen had torched the day before.

"Well," she said, "If you're ever around Neverwinter, ask the proprieter of the Sunken Flagon and you might be able to find me."

"If I'm ever around Neverwinter," he replied, "You can expect me." He leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. Then, he pulled his shirt over his face so that he wouldn't be recognized, and bolted, whooping with laughter as the angry farmer shouted curses after him. Adahni tugged on her boots quickly, hoping that perhaps Shandra Jerro might not realize that the girl he had shared the haystack with was still there.

She looked up to realize that her luck had run out.

"So," said Shandra, glaring down at her in disapproval, "It's not enough that you insult me in my own home, see my barn was burned to the ground, you have to... to _defile_my haystack as well?"

"Hey," Adahni protested, "_I_ didn't torch your barn. Maybe if you stole off with some strapping lad as well you wouldn't have your skivvies in such a twist now."

"Just get out of here," she said, "Don't you have things to do?"

"I suppose I do," said Adahni, trying her best to sound dignified.

"I suppose it's not that bad," said Shandra. Her face had softened after Adahni had put her boots and armor on, and strapped her longsword across her back, "You're not the first lass to take a tumble in a haystack."

"Glad you see it that way," Adahni replied, "I guess I do owe you one, you providing me with such a comfortable haystack and all." She stuck her hand out.

"I don't know where that's been," Shandra said, looking at her hand with disdain, but she gingerly shook it as a gesture of good will. Adahni took off, back to the village, the docks, and whatever awaited her within Neverwinter's walls.


	5. A Long Way From Home

Adahni leaned her head against the bulwark of the _Double Eagle_, gazing out at the waters of the Sea of Swords. She sighed, thinking about the lad's arms... what was his name again? It had been a long time since she had lain with a man, and even longer since she'd enjoyed it this much. He had been tender and sweet, stroking her hair and calling her beautiful. She sighed again.

She felt a poke in her ribs.

"So," Neeshka piped up, "You have an interesting night?'

"Yeah," she sighed, "It was interesting all right. Remember the blond with the farm?"

"How could I forget?" Neeshka muttered, "She was testy. What, you have a threesome or something?"

"No" said Adahni, turning to Neeshka like a twelve-year-old with a juicy secret, "We did it in her haystack," she whispered, her topaz eyes wide with mischief.

Neeshka giggled uproariously, "Well serves her right. You sure had a better night than I did. I woke up with Khelgar's stinky foot in my face on the floor of the inn with Elanee shaking us both awake."

"Ooooh, groaned Khelgar, wandering up from below decks, his face a sickly shade of green, "My belly feels funny..." He leaned over the rail and vomited against the side of the ship. The smell hit them both and they groaned.

Elanee joined them shortly thereafter. They were in sight of Neverwinter by this point, the towers gleaming in the late afternoon sun. "This water is deep, unnatural," she murmured, "Not like the Mere."

"Oh, can it, swamp-breath," Neeshka commanded, glaring at her, "You've managed to ruin all the good jokes with your whining."

"Why, what's so amusing now, besides our leader whoring herself to whatever farm boy strikes her fancy?"

The bemused smile that had been playing about Adahni's lips faded entirely, her face took on a glow that she only got when she was very, very angry. She strode up to the elf. Human – or aasimar – as she was, she was small and still only had an in or two on Elanee. She grabbed a handful of the druid's tunic – the tunic _she_had bought for her – and drew her up so that they looked right into each other eyes. "Don't you _ever_call me that," she hissed, "_Ever._"

For the first time, she saw Elanee alarmed.

"I – I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't realize it would offend you."

"It's all right," Adahni said, grudgingly, "I'll survive."

She loosed the druid and turned back to the ocean.

"What was _that?_" Neeshka asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

"That," said Adahni, "Was me losing my temper. I should take better care that that doesn't happen."

"Why," Neeshka muttered, "She deserved it. What right has she to judge you? Although it does seem she touched a nerve there."

"Yeah, a pretty raw nerve," Adahni said, "I have a lot of those."

Suddenly, they were surrounded by sailors, shouting commands. Sails were lowered and hoisted, the man at the helm whirled it round and round again. The ship lurched and maneuvered its way into Neverwinter harbor. Within twenty minutes, the gangplank was laid out, and the four companions wandering down it onto the cobblestoned streets of Neverwinter.

"Passable," commented Khelgar, "For a city built by humans. If you want to build a proper city, you build down, not up."

"I built your mother down last night," Adahni retorted.

"That doesn't even make any sense," Khelgar said, rolling his eyes.

"Your mother doesn't make any sense."

"Would you shut up?"

"I shut your mother up."

Weary of the bard's nonsensical insults, Khelgar shut his mouth. She really could be infuriating sometimes. Her behavior had been erratic at best from the moment he'd encountered her, drunkenly slogging through the swamp. He'd been too wrapped up in his own stories that night to tell, but judging from her actions over the past seventy-two hours, there really was something _wrong_ with her. She went from being calm and collected and mature one moment to sneaking off into a farmer's haystack like a fourteen-year-old to manhandling that wisp of an elf girl to spouting nonsense at him just to make him angry. Not that he was such a fan of Elanee, mind you, but still. That wouldn't have been a fair fight at all.

Still, he thought, she'd been good to him so far. Bought him some decent armor, a new ax. Had taken a few solid blows for him. Listened to him bellyache about Helvynn without passing judgment. And by Tyr's right buttock, that girl could fight!

"Ye Sunken Flaggonne," he heard her read out loud from the sign above her head, "Well if that's not pathetic."

"Well," said Neeshka, "Seems like it's home for now. Depending on the good graces of your uncle, of course."

"Of course," she said, "Although, from the looks of it he'll take what business he can." She opened the door and glanced in. The places were completely deserted, except for a lone patron standing near a table. She wandered cautiously in, taking in the heads on the walls, the kegs near the bar, the apronned, unshaven half-elf standing absently there.

"Can I help you?" he asked, looking warily at Neeshka.

"Perhaps," she said, "Are you Duncan Farlong?"

"Aye," he said, narrowing his eyes at her. A look of recognition passed over his face, and he looked away for the rest of the conversation while she spilled the beans – her identity, the attack on West Harbor, the shard, her ordeals in Fort Locke and Highcliff. He nodded, and acknowledged everything, but did not look her in the eye.

"I've got one of those shards," he said, "Daeghun gave it to me for safekeeping some years ago. There's a hedge wizard, name of Sand, who runs a shop across the way. I had him take a look at it one, and he couldn't get much off of it."

With eerie timing, this "Sand" walked in in halfway through the conversation. He was a slight little moon elf with dark hair tucked neatly behind his pointed ears. He walked like someone used to much grander things, sniffing the air like a dog, and let loose a stream of deadpan sarcasm that Adahni would normally have admired, but something about him rubbed her the wrong way. He and Duncan began trading insults, and Adahni began to not pay attention.

She found herself gazing at that one drunkard sitting there at the end of the bar. Human, or something like it, and young, much too young to be a midday drunk at a seedy bar on the docks. There was something terribly familiar about him, though, he carried himself like a Luskan, for sure, she'd learned to tell that over the years. But she could not shake the feeling that she had seen him before. _Was he a client? _she thought, _No. I never remember clients like that. Or was he one of Dayven's associates… yes, perhaps that's it. I wonder what he's doing in Neverwinter, if that's the case…_

She was thrown to the floor before he could catch her staring.

"Well, it seems as though these "shards" have some sort of resentment to being scryed," Sand said.

Duncan opened his mouth, likely to insult him, but Adahni hushed them both quickly, "Both of you be silent before I lose _my_temper," she sneered.

This was the wrong thing to say, lighting the fuse under yet a third exchange of insults. What they seemed to agree upon at the end of the conversation was that Sand was not the one that ought to be determining the value of these shards.

"You could try to speak to Aldanon," Sand suggested, tipping his head back and regarding her with cold blue eyes, "But I don't think you'd have much luck reachinghim. Aldanon lives in the Blacklake District, you see – and now he's trapped there. The Watch has it locked tight, no one going in or out, no messages in or out, even for the nobles that used to live there... quite cryptic, really."

"Great," Adahni said, smiling brightly, "I'll probably have to jump through a wall of fire to get in, right?"

"Well, the Watch isn't talking, and they've called in the Cloaktower mages to investigate. That usually means demons – or sorcery."

"Demons? Closest I've ever come to demons is Daeghun's tales about the battles down south, near West Harbor... when there was that trouble with the King of Shadows," Duncan said.

"Closest I've ever come to demons is Khelgar's breath!" Neeshka called out, "What does a girl have to do to get a drink in this place?"

"Asking for one is standard procedure," Duncan called back.

"I just need to get to Blacklake, then," said Adahni, "I bet the Watch would take me. Isn't Cormick with them?"

"Yes he is," Duncan replied, "Well, it looks like you've got yourself a job here in Neverwinter. Respectable-like. Your might be proud, though he'd never admit it."

"Good," said Khelgar, "Otherwise we'd probably have to be sneaking around with the likes of the demon child here."

"Cops?" Neeshka squeaked, "Come on, Addie, not the Watch. They're the biggest bullies around. I used to know a few people, some might call them shady, but they're not pigs. How could you become one of them?"

"Listen," she said, "There's only one way to beat the bully, Neesh, and that's to become him. How about you finish that beer and we dump whatever gear you don't need. Then we can head out."

Neeshka rolled her eyes and busied herself cleaning her fingernails with her dagger. Adahni walked over, approaching the lone drunk cautiously. He was unremarkable, of average height and build, a great long bow hanging by his side. There _was_ something familiar about him, though, something that made her sick to her stomach.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

He turned to her and their eyes locked. He, too, was possessed of extraordinarily pale brown eyes, but they weren't nearly as striking as hers. She thought she saw a flicker of recognition in them, but he quickly looked away. "If I wanted a wench, I'd go to a local brothel."

The rage welled up within her as it had when Elanee had made her remark earlier that day.

"Oh dear, I think he said the other "w" word," Elanee whispered to Neeshka, "I hope she meant what she said about keeping her temper in check."

"I'm sure she meant it at the time," Neeshka replied, "But look at that vein on the side of her temple. All bets are off."

Adahni stood there for a moment, deciding what to do. With Elanee it was one thing, she was sure the elf was just trying to be humorous in her own awkward way. All it took was a little expression of anger to make her realize that she had crossed the boundary. This stranger, though, he didn't even _know_her and he was making comments like that. And after hearing Sand spew such lovely clever insults, she felt she should treat this one with a little more gentility before the fists started flying. She paused for a moment.

"You're still here? Why don't you go away like a good little nuisance," the drunk growled, "All right, fine, if you're that desperate, how much?"

"Oh boy," Khelgar said, "This is gonna be good, I can tell already! Barkeep! Get me an ale, I want to watch the match!"

"See," said Adahni, clicking her tongue behind her teeth, "Unlike your mother, I'm not a three-copper whore. But insulting me, unlike bedding me, has a price."

She brought her fist up and slammed it down on the back of his neck, bouncing his face against the back of the chair in front of him. He came up in surprise, clutching his bleeding nose with one hand and flailing the other one wildly, a clumsy blow which she dodged with ease. She kicked him in the shins with the pointed tip of her boot, and when he fell, brought her knee to his groin as hard as she could.

"Great Tyr!" shouted Duncan, hurrying up, "What did he say?"

"Nothin," said Adahni, spitting on the writhing mass of pain on the ground, "Didn't like the way he looked at me."

"Sheesh, Bishop, I knew you were a prick, but my niece? Did you _not_see the sword on her back?" Duncan said, dragging the unfortunate to his feet. He glared at her, but said nothing.

"What'd you say his name was?" asked Adahni, looking pointedly at him, "Princess was it? No wonder he's a prick, name like that. Sorry there, Princess, didn't mean to ruin your pretty looks. I'll be going, minding my own business, and I suggest you do the same."

She turned and walked back over to where Neeshka and Elanee were sitting, suddenly friends, at a table by the fire. They stared at her in frightened silence.

"As I said," she muttered, "I have a lot of raw nerves."

"Hells," Neeshka said, "There's a lot of boors out there that I'd do that to if I had the strength... and lack of sanity. I always just waited til they were sleeping and take them for all they had."

"Well you might be able to do that too," Elanee declared, "It looks like he lives here. Of course that means you'll have to deal with him again."

"Good," said Adahni, "Now that he knows better than to fuck with me, I think we'll get along swimmingly."

"That was splendid!" Khelgar cried, walking up from the other end of the inn with two pints, "First rate beating you gave out there. Pity he didn't have it in him to swing back."

"I'm sure he will at some point," Elanee observed, "We haven't here an hour and already you've made an enemy."

"I'm sure he won't be the first either," Khelgar exclaimed, his eyes bulging with excitement, "We might have to fight the entire city of Neverwinter before the week's out!"

"You seem much more delighted at this prospect than you ought to be," Elanee said quietly, "Perhaps we should pick our battles more carefully."

"Prudence is for little girls and gnomes," Khelgar declared, "Anyway, don't we have a watch to join? Always thought I might look good in uniform. Rather dashing, don't you think?"

"Yeah Khelgar," Neeshka replied, "As dashing as a keg on legs can be."

"Whoa there!" Duncan called, "You do realize the sun's down and the only watchmen on duty will be the crooked ones. Not to mention all the riffraff that goes on in this district after dark. Why don't you settle in, get some rest?"

"It would be nice to lay down on a bed for once, instead of the ground," Neeshka said, shrugging, "Or a haystack..."

Adahni chose to ignore that comment, not the least reason of which was that she had nothing clever to respond with. Elanee was showing signs of fatigue; she imagined that the druid probably kept her hours with the sun, which was sinking rapidly below the dark waters to the west.

Settled in a comfortable bed in a large room at the inn, she stared at the cracks in the ceiling and thought about what had transpired in the past few days. She wondered what Bevil and Amie would think about her new companions. Neither of them had the same mischievous streak as Neeshka, nor the blind courage of Khelgar, nor the mysteriousness of Elanee. It would be interesting, when she returned to West Harbor, to introduce them

It occurred to her, suddenly, that Amie was still dead. She saw again her friend's limp form in front of her in the glow of whatever magic that the strange mage had unleashed. She had not had time to properly dwell on the loss, nor to grieve either for her friend or the home that was now lost to her over the vast sweep of the Mere. Tears sprang to her eyes as she thought about it, and before she could control them, she was sobbing noisily into the fine goosedown pillow that her uncle had provided her. Whether she liked it or not, Duncan was the only family she had here, a bedraggled innkeeper of a sleazy inn. Of course, she reasoned, she could do worse. She _had_done worse. She felt the sting of loss more keenly than she ever had when she was younger, even though, she supposed the isolation she had experienced on her travels had been much worse. At that time, she was too numb with the drink to have felt the pain as she did now, dreadfully sober, and a long, long way from home.


	6. Bacon

The City Watch building was surprisingly empty, housing only an unshaven Marshall Cormick, whom they had bidden farewell to at Fort Locke, and a blond-haired lieutenant. They were exchanging words, and not all of them friendly, as Adahni and her small crew walked in. Cormick waved half-heartedly at the motley crew as they entered. Elanee had been silent all morning with hardly a harsh word for anybody. Neeshka, too, was quiet, and quite obviously ill at ease in the hall of the law. Only Khelgar was in good spirits, nearly prancing – as much as a two hundred pound dwarf could prance. The watch, he seemed to think, would afford him many a good fight, and absolve him of any legal consequences for them.

"Well, look here," Cormick said as they approached, "Look what the cat dragged in. You look like the all hells rolled into one, Farlong."

"Thanks, Cormick," she replied, "So, I seem to recall some mention of a reward back at Fort Locke. You know, for putting my ass on the line while you were sitting comfortably with the civilians."

"Nice to see that your journey through the Mere hasn't changed you," Cormick said, extending one callused hand and tousling her hair, "Still the ornery bitch from West Harbor. So what can I do for you?"

"I need to get into the Blacklake District, apparently," Adahni said, furiously smoothing her hair down. She supposed he thought he was being brotherly or something, "Who do I talk to about that?"

"Well, that would be Captain Brelaina," Cormick said, "She has to personally approve anybody to enter that area of the city. Of course, she's not going to just let you in if you ask her nicely."

"Clearly," she observed, "But what if I were to work for the Watch?"

"Would probably be a good start," Cormick said, "Handle yourself here like you did at Fort Locke and you might just strike her fancy. I have to admit, things are getting pretty out of hands in the Docks and we haven't been given the manpower to get the situation under control. These thugs have been well organized. We've heard a name... Moire. We think she's the one running the gang. We also know others have tried to organize their own gangs. The City Watch is outnumbered. We can use anyone willing to join our ranks."

"Well, I'm glad you think so highly of me," Adahni said, raising an eyebrow dubiously, "That I pass the Watch's… exacting… standards."

"Here," Cormick said, thrusting a swath of blue cloth into her hand, "Pin that around your neck, it'll mark you as one of us until we can work out a real uniform." Adahni did so, tucking it behind her sword, "Now there's a certain shopkeeper, Hagen by name, who's about to be shaken down for blood money. Get to his shop on the docks and make sure he stays in one piece."

"Already? Don't I get training or something?"

"From what I hear," Cormick said, "Georg Redfell's been busting your ass for the better part of a year. That's training enough. Now take your buddies and get over there!"

"Yes, sir," Adahni said, making sure that there was a bit of contempt left in her voice. She and Cormick had never really seen eye to eye, as she remembered it. She'd been a precocious child, preferring to bury her face in Daeghun's tomes of old poetry and ballads to playing ball in the cornfields or hunting small game with slingshots. To Cormick, this had translated into being uppity, and deserving of all the frogs he'd slip down the back of her shirt and that one time when he'd taken a chunk of her hair clean off with a sharp knife while she was reading in the Starlings' haymow. He seemed to admire her now, but she was not about the let the opportunity to make him feel as small as he'd made her feel go by.

She motioned with her head towards the door, and was amused with how quickly each one of her companions hopped to and followed her. She could get used to this. She was still unsure why any of them would be taking orders from her – Elanee certainly seemed to have a lot invested in the shard business, but not so Khelgar and Neeshka – but she had no complaints.

They made their way to the edge of the sea under the midmorning sun. The shop was a little, rundown affair. "The Master Baiter: A Fishing Emporium," the sign read. Adahni heard Neeshka snort and giggle behind her hand and suppressed laughter herself. At least this Hagen had a sense of humor.

From the dour look on the face of the iron-haired woman behind the counter, Hagen was the only once with a sense of humor. She identified herself as his daughter, Reesa, and expressed her unhappiness that the watch had done nothing about the local thugs before with a few, choice, four-letter words. Her father, the erstwhile Master Baiter, arrived a few minutes later, sparing them any more of her complaints. He was old, seventy or more, but robust, and carried a knotty club which he pounded against one dry hand from time to time.

"So, I hear there are some skulls to be cracked in the name of justice," Adahni said, by way of hello.

"Caleb's his name," Hagen said, "He's been demanding blood money from all the merchants around these parts, and collecting it. Right under the Watch's nose! You'd think that they knew and gave it their blessing..."

"I see," Adahni said, "It seems as though the thugs have the Watch as scared as they have you."

"But not so of us!" Khelgar declared.

"What, you the only honest coppers on the force now?" Hagen's daughter snorted.

"Sure we are," Adahni said, cracking a smile, "You can trust us."

"Reesa, I want you to go home where it's safe until this is all over. I don't want you getting hurt," Hagen said, looking worriedly at the strange band of watchmen.

"Papa, I am fifty-two years old. I don't have to listen to you. And I'm not leaving you here alone, I want to help if Caleb sends more men."

"No offense there, lass," Khelgar said, "But you don't look like much of a fighter."

"Lass!" Reesa sniffed, "I'm old enough to be your mother, dwarf!"

"I'm two hundred and forty seven and a half years old, and _I'm _telling you to get the hells out of here. Now respect your elders and _move!_" Khelgar announced.

Somewhat put in her place, the gray-haired woman turned tail, and exited out of the shop's back door, letting it slam behind her.

Within the hour, the thugs had arrived and did not waste any time busting through the front door, letting in some droplets of rain from the storm that was gathering just at the horizon. There were several of them, all of average height and build. Their belts bristled with more knives than Adahni imagined they knew how to use. They carried themselves like amateurs. They were nothing but schoolyard bullies grown up and in the employ of the same sort of stupid blighter who had been commanding them their wholes lives.

"Caleb didn't like your answer Hagen," their leader declared menacingly.

"I won't be bullied by the likes of Caleb," the old man said, throwing out his chest in a pitiful gesture of dominance.

"Caleb can suck it," Neeshka called, "And so can you."

Elanee blushed at her brazen language, but drew her sickle from the place at her belt and brandished it threateningly.

"Whoa there," one of the other thugs chuckled, "I smell bacon. So, how much'll it be for y'all to turn around and pretend you're not hearing Master Hagen's bones snap like autumn twigs?"

Neeshka seemed about to make an offer, but Khelgar stepped on her foot so the only noise she emitted was an angry squeal.

"How about," Adahni said, "You turn around, go out that door, and back to your mother's skirts."

"How about," their leader said, "I smash your kneecaps?"

He lunged at her, but she had the good sense to bring her foot up in time such that her steel toed connected quite satisfactorily with his breast bone, and he fell backwards, gasping for air. With a twist of her fingers and a muttered phrase, Elanee wasted no time in rooting the lot of them to the ground. Khelgar was the one who swung into action next, but was careful only to strike with the blunt side of the axe. Within 20 minutes, the thugs were unconscious and bleeding, but would probably survive. Neeshka relieved them of their weapons and valuables, tossing a couple of coins Hagen's way in a rare act of generosity.

"Think you can keep 'em this way?" asked Khelgar.

"Reesa certainly can," Hagen replied.

"We'll ask Cormick send some more watchmen to haul them off," Adahni said, "And then my guess is that we're going to have to pay this Caleb character a little visit."

Caleb was smart enough not to try to talk his way out of it. They left him bleeding heavily in a gutter. He would probably not live. This didn't sit too well with Khelgar, who turned a little green as they made their way over the cobblestones to the Watch building. "I don't see why you couldn't have just knocked him out like the others," he muttered into his beard, "Why'd you let them live and kill him?"

"You act like I've got some interest in their lives other than getting the job done," Adahni scoffed, "I left the thugs alive so they could go back to their preferred seedy taverns and tell everyone not to fuck with Adahni Farishta. I killed Caleb because I know that if he'd gone back to whatever mob boss he works for, she would certainly come out and fuck with us. Not to mention that it was you who dealt the decisive blow."

She elbowed open the door of the Watch building and strode in. She walked up to Cormick, who was preoccupied with something else entirely, and used his cloak to wipe the blood from her hands.

"Caleb won't be bothering the good citizens of Neverwinter anymore," she announced by way of an explanation.

"Can't say I like your style, Farlong, but you get the job done," Cormick replied finally, after seeming to mull over whether or not to make a fuss about his cloak, "I'd wager they offered you some coin to have you avert your eyes. And I see you didn't take it."

"No sir," she replied, cracking a smile, "You may call me many things, but I am not a turncoat. Not for money, anyway."

"And what would you betray us for, Farlong?" Cormick asked, challenging her.

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?" Neeshka interjected, stepping in between the two Harbormen, clearly not wanting any more trouble than they had seen already.

"Just fucking with you," Adahni said, the smile not leaving her face.

"Good," Cormick replied, "Because I'm going to need you to go out after just the sort of dirty coppers that would have taken that hush money. There are several guardposts on in this district; they're manned starting when the lamps are lit just before sunset. Here, I'll mark them on your map – I can't believe you're still carrying that around, you look like a tourist – you'll need to go by all of them and make sure everything's on the up and up, so to speak. So get out of here and come back when you've gotten the loyalty of those who are willing to be and the heads of those who aren't."

"Hate to break it to you," Elanee pointed out, "But it's not yet noon."

"Well I won't have you loitering here like a bunch of bums. Find something to entertain yourself with. It's no concern of mine."

He waved them off casually with one gloved hand.

"All right," sighed Adahni, "Any ideas?"

"We could get drunk and fight," Khelgar suggested.

"As I said," Elanee repeated, "It's not yet noon."

"It's always sundown somewhere!" Khelgar protested.

"You're appalling," Elanee sniffed, "If it's all right with our leader, I'd like to get out of the city. I am... out of my element here. I will return before sunset."

"We've only been here for a day," Neeshka said, rolling her eyes, "There's an old friend here I'd like to pay a visit to, if it's all the same to you."

"What did I say about loitering!" Cormick barked.

Adahni rolled her eyes and strode out the door, followed by her comrades. "So," she asked, as the door shut behind them, "A friend you say. Does our dear Neeshka have a lover she left behind in Neverwinter?"

Neeshka spat on the cobblestoned walkway, "Bastard is a better word." They sauntered back towards the Sunken Flagon, "Had a bit of a tumble before the rivalry set in, but it was more nervous energy than love. Thinks he's a better thief than I am, which is the biggest load of..."

They exited the Watch's courtyard at that point, and were immediately confronted with several brutish looking men, baring their teeth and doing their best to look frightening. It worked. The hairs of the nape of Adahni's neck stood at attention and her hand went reflexively to the hilt of her sword. But it was not her that they were interested in. Their leader strode up to Neeshka, looking her up and down.

"So, thought you'd slip in unnoticed, eh?" he growled, "I'd have you know that there's still a pricy bounty on that horned head of yours."

"Let me guess," Adahni said, doing her best to sound nonchalant, "It's a bounty you intend to collect?"

"It's no concern of yours, wench," the man spat.

Adahni did what she always did when she was nervous. She burst out laughing right in his face. "What did you call me?" she asked.

"I said," he repeated, turning his attention to her, "That it's no concern of _yours,_wench."

"I think you ought to be a little more concerned about the axe I'm about to put through that bald skull of yours," Khelgar growled. He looked almost protective, positioning his stocky body between the two women and the gang of thugs.

"I'll cut you in," the thug offered, "Send that little bitch back to the nine hells where her kind belongs and I'll see that it's worth your while."

Adahni could practically see the steam rising from the dwarf's bald pate as he swung his axe at such an angle that it cleaved the man's head in two down to his nose. His mouth, wide and red, continued to scream until he crumpled to the ground. Adahni stared in horrified fascination as this occurred, and had to concentrate to keep the greasy breakfast Duncan had fed them in her stomach. The remaining cronies stayed to avenge their leader, but were clearly scared, and quickly turned tail, one of them leaving his severed hand on the ground where Adahni had sliced it from his arm like a head from a chicken.

"That was the friend, eh?" she asked, putting a hand over her mouth and wiping her blade on the blue Watch cloak. The damn thing would be rust red before the day was out, she thought. Maybe that hedge wizard would have some arcane stain removers…

"Nah," said Neeshka, "Just a sad sack of shit from the wharfs. Bennon is – was – his name. Leldon is the man I'm concerned about. And I imagine that's the man who put this price on my head."

"I see," said Adahni, "And I imagine we can expect to see more of him?"

"Safe bet," Khelgar said, "That'un'll be looking to avenge his left hand."

"Well," Neeshka said brightly, "At least we have keg-on-legs here to protect us, right?"

"Take care that you don't become more trouble than you're worth, goat-girl."

"Than I'm worth?" the tiefling giggled, "Well, is it worth a tankard of Sal's finest? For you, too, Addie. I'm looking forward to getting the sight of him out of my head."


	7. The Way of the Red Dragon

Chatting with the watchmen on duty reminded Adahni, to her frustration, of why she had chosen to join their number rather than the local mob. Thieves would sell each other out. Watchmen, though they were nine times out of ten worse than the criminals they were out to protect the good people from, would stick with each other through thick, thin, and otherwise. Even the clean ones wouldn't rat out the dirty ones. While it made her job a little harder, she was glad to know that, even as a newcomer, she would have some degree of protection. She took some coin off of the disloyal ones, watched the clean ones' backs in a fight with a few Luskan rats. She managed not to really piss anybody off, which she supposed was as good as she could hope for.

"See what I mean?" Neeshka said when they had left the penultimate guard post on the way back south to the last one, "They're worse than any cutpurses out there. They were even willing to sell out to Luskans! _Luskans_!"

"Why do you hate Luskans so much?" Khelgar asked, "You're too young to have been in the war."

"No I'm not," Neeshka said, "Though I'll take it as a compliment."

"The war touched everyone," Elanee said, "Not just those who fought in it."

"Yeah," Adahni agreed, "Fuck Luskans. If the city burned to the ground tomorrow I wouldn't even cry for the children. Better off dead than growing up in that hole."

"What's your problem with Luskan then?" asked Elanee, "Have you ever even been there?"

"Maybe," Adahni replied, looking at her pointedly.

"I see," Elanee said, and chose not to pursue the matter.

"In any case, I have no remorse for their cracked skulls," Adahni said, "Burn the place down myself if I could. The way sentiment in Neverwinter is, Nasher'd probably give me a bloody medal."

* * *

They were nearly back at their destination when they heard a pitiful whimpering issuing from a back alley. Cowering behind a few garbage pails was a large gray wolf, its fur stained red. Khelgar and Neeshka hung back, but Elanee approached the animal cautiously, taking its great head in her hands and examining the wounds. She stopped suddenly, "That animal. I think it's a druid."

"Gods almighty," Adahni sighed, "You're a long way from the Mere, buddy."

"The Mere?" the wolf asked, its voice garbled and gruff, "Are you from the Circle?"

"The Circle of the Mere, yes," Elanee said.

"I am a messenger from the Circle of Swords of Neverwinter Wood," he said, "I was sent to find one of you. I picked up your scent at the Maiden's Glade, I tried to come and find you. The guards took me for a wild wolf and wounded me sore. I can't... I can't shift here. Something from the Mere is making it too difficult."

"I have been away from the Circle for some time, and my speaking with the elders, it has been over a year since we were in the same place," Elanee said, "As for the troubles in the land , we suspect it may be tied to this one I am traveling with and..." Elanee looked to her, expecting her to finish the sentence.

Adahni stayed silent for a moment before divulging the existence of the silver shards.

"Shards?" the wolf growled, "I fail to see how one could affect the other... but I am not one of the Elders of our Circle. I will keep hunting for others of the Mere, as ordered. Know that the druids have been forced to retreat slowly from their tended lands. If you would speak to them, travel to the Skymirror, and use its powers to contact them."

Adahni sighed and rolled her eyes, but felt a little bad for the way she had been treating Elanee and said, "Fine, we'll go there when we can, but we need to hit up one more guard post."

* * *

They made their way to the southern corner of the city, where there were five watchmen clustered around a lamp post. The sergeant was in the middle of a story, but he quickly finished, clearing his throat as he saw Adahni approach.

"How's things, sergeant?" she asked.

"Everyone wants the Watch to help, but they won't increase our pay. How's the patrol going? Not to rough, I hope."

"That's an understatement," Adahni said, scratching the nape of her neck.

It was clear after several minutes of conversation that this sergeant was not one of the bad ones. She left him alone and turned to go back to the tavern. What she saw there, however, gave her pause. There were three women there, squared off as though the fists were about to fly. Two were dressed in pale blue robes, the third in a scarlet tunic. Her first instinct was to avoid them, but Duncan, who was standing behind them, caught her eye and beckoned her over. She walked up, careful to put some swagger in her step.

"Ladies, ladies, please there's not cause to lose our tempers over this," Duncan said, pleadingly.

"Temper?" the girl in red asked. She was pale, with brown hair and some interesting tattoos on her forehead. There was a snotty, uppity edge to her voice that made Adahni want to backhand her just to make her shut up, "I haven't even gotten warmed up yet."

"Being able to keep a rein on your spells is a sign of discipline, Qara, something that you could never master," the black-haired girl across from her sneered. Her voice was equally grating, supercilious, with the 'r's' rolled just so.

"And the instructors aren't here to shield you. Go on, set fire to this whole street and this sad tavern, and you'll never be able to return to the Academy, let alone Neverwinter," the blond said.

"Like I'd want to stay in that prison with you high-nosed witches for another year," the redhead replied.

"You're right, here among the Docks is where you belong, peddling yourself for cheap coin," pronounced the brunette.

"Someone get me a tankard," Khelgar whispered, "This is going to get good."

"That the Gods you've arrived," Duncan said as the conversation hit a lull, slinging his arm around his niece's shoulders, "Can you do something? These "ladies" are about to start throwing spells around outside my establishment."

"Augh," Adahni groaned, "The lot of you can go straight to the hells for all I care, but I need a place to stay. Please avoid burning down this inn."

"Hetha," the blond said, "I think members of the Watch are here."

"Friends of yours, Qara?" the dark-haired one said.

"I don't need anybody's help to turn you into ash," the redhead said.

"There's no need for violence, let's talk about this," Adahni said, unenthusiastically. She sat down on the stoop, rolling her eyes, as this set off another round of uncreative insults, "You know... I'm sure there's another way we can work this out without me..." she looked over at Khelgar, who took out his stout axe, Elanee, who brandished her sickle, and Neeshka, who threw her dagger such that it flew an inch away from Qara's ear and landed with a thunk in the wall behind her. "... and my friends becoming involved."

"I... I would not intervene if I were you, else we'll be forced to stop you as well... we are wizards you know," the blond said.

At this, Adahni laughed out loud, remembering all the spell-chucking weaklings who couldn't take a hit. Their pathetic attempts at shield and armor spells were ripped asunder by her sword and Khelgar's axe, every single time.

"This is right outside my place of residence," she said, "Believe me, I would have no trouble ripping that flaxen hair from your head and that wagging tongue from your mouth. I'd like to see you try to cast a spell without it."

"Hetha," the blond said, "I don't want to be cast out of the academy if we're arrested."

"Very well," the black-haired girl said, "You're fortunate this time, Qara, next time you better not let us catch you outside academy walls."

They turned on their heels around walked out.

"I didn't need your help," the girl called Qara whined, "Those "wizards" had it coming."

"So did you," Adahni said.

"They're just jealous," Qara said, flipping her hair, "I'm more powerful than they'll ever be."

"Lass, you should have thought of that before starting a fight outside the Flagon," Duncan said, "And the damage you caused before they even showed up."

"It's the wood you use in the rafters, it sets fire easily."

"Yeah," Elanee said, her face somber, "Funny how wood burns."

"I think you ought to work off this little debt you've accrued," Duncan said.

"What? I'm not working for either of you! Ever!" Qara exclaimed, her face a mask of consternation.

"I don't want her help," Adahni whispered to Duncan, "Can I just like stab her or something?'

"No lass," Duncan said, addressing the sorceress and ignoring his niece, "You will, or by Gods you'll bring down a fury from me like you've never seen."

"We don't want her around, Duncan. She can go – I never want to lay eyes on those ugly tattoos again," Adahni said.

"No," said Duncan, "She's not going anywhere. If you won't take her with you, then she's going to be working off her debt right here until it's settled. Grab a rag, sorceress, there's tables inside that need cleaning."

"You'll regret this," Qara said.

"What a bitch," remarked Neeshka, "Hope she's not bunking in with me and Elanee. I might have to slit her throat while she sleeps."

For once, Elanee kept her mouth shut about Neeshka's temper. She had, apparently, been rubbed the wrong way by the girl as well. She only sighed and rolled her pale brown eyes. "Can we go to the Skymirror?" she asked, "It is a short journey. We'll make it there by sunrise."

"It's nigh on two in the morning!" Khelgar exclaimed, "Ye can't be serious."

"Perhaps if you hadn't been drinking all day, you'd feel a bit more up to it," Elanee said, "What do you think, Adahni?"

"I could use a walk," Adahni replied, "We can take turns carrying keg-on-legs here if he passes out. It'll be good exercise."

"Count me out," Neeshka said.

"Well if you don't come we might have to invite that red-clad wench," Adahni said.

"Aw, hells no," Neeshka said, "Let's go."

* * *

The moon was new and shed precious little light as they made there way out of Neverwinter and into the wilds beyond. Elanee, as always, seemed to know exactly what was going on and wove through the trees and underbrush like a shuttle through warp. Adahni followed after her, bending and ducking as the branches threatened to thrash her soundly. Neeshka followed her, leaping and bounding to keep up. Khelgar brought up the rear, stomping and grumbling the whole way through.

"Hey Addie," Neeshka said, two or three hours in, when they were just getting the darkest bit of the night, "You ever make light?"

"Make light of what? I make light of a lot of things... death, destruction, Khelgar's breath..."

"No, stupid," she said, "Make light. Like I can make darkness. Check it out."

"No!" Adahni exclaimed, familiar with the trick, "We don't need any more darkness. There's already plenty."

"Just scrunch up your nose and try real hard. I bet you can do it," Neeshka insisted.

"I already told you, I'm not an aasimar," Adahni said.

"But how do you know? I heard you and Duncan talking earlier, you never even laid eyes on your mother, let alone your father," Neeshka said, "And that stale beer smell? Definitely celestial."

"Fine," Adahni said, "But if Khelgar laughs at me for looking constipated I'll smack you so hard your horns fall off."

She paused for a moment on the trail and scrunched up her nose, and then her whole face. She thought about the moon, and how she wished that it was full and pouring its light down so that they could see where in the Hells it was they were going…

When she opened her eyes, an ethereal white light had ignited above her head, and a dimmer light was pouring from her entire body, from her fingertips to her toes. "Well I'll be thrice damned," she said, "Between this and the bardic stuff I'm a fucking wunderkind."

In the light of her own creation, she saw that they had come quite a ways uphill into the dry headlands north of Neverwinter. They were making their way along a relatively level path, though, with tall weeds growing on either side. The trees grew taller as they climbed higher.

"This is the place," Elanee said suddenly, though Adahni did not see anything remarkable about the place, "The Skymirror is ahead, but there are challenges we must face. The path to the Skymirror is a difficult path for anyone not of the Circle to walk – and it is also sealed against any who might accidentally stray near its waters, both for their protection and those of the Circle."

"Lovely," Adahni remarked, "Let's just keep moving."

* * *

Of course, the Skymirror was high in the hills, and the journey was long, especially with Elanee speaking cryptically the whole way. Eventually, they stood by the side of a pool with ragged, stony edges. Magic crackled off the surface of it and Adahni was wary of getting too close. Elanee, however, waded right in and tossed in an offering.

"Elder Naevan, can you hear me?" she called.

To Adahni's astonishment, the figure of an elfin man rose from the very water of the Skymirrior.

"Yes, child, where are you?"

"I was looking for the Druids of Neverwinter Wood."

"I have only recently returned from the Sword Coast."

"So you don't know anything about the Mere," Adahni said.

"He can't hear you," Elanee hissed.

"My path has been a long one," Naevan said, unprompted, "Like you, I have had no success in contacting the druids of Neverwinter Wood. I suspect they are avoiding me – or have cut themselves off from others."

The rest of the conversation was equally gloomy, detailing the slow descent of the Mere into corruption and darkness. Adahni didn't really understand much of it. Most of her studies had been focused on the history of the civilized peoples and she knew precious little about the ways of the druids. However, understanding the particular nature of the situation or not, she understood exactly how serious the problem was. It gave her the creeps, frankly. The Mere had always loomed out the outskirts of her childhood, somewhere to sneak away into to build playhouses or rafts to pole along its shallow waters. Even as she trekked across it one year beforehand to return home, she felt that it had changed somehow, become a dark and threatening place. And if the druids who called it home and were charged with its safekeeping were concerned with its wellbeing...

"There is nothing more we can do..." Elanee said, her eyes wide and scared, "We... we must leave at once! We are not welcome here!"

The wood was suddenly dreadfully, terribly silent. It was as though one of Adahni's childhood nightmares had come to life. She cast about furtively, the light pouring from her body slowly fading. Before her eyes, shadows rose from the hills and trees and descended upon them. In the crypts, she had expected dead bodies. Those bodies, however, had been given all the pomp and dignity of military funerals. But these creatures... these creatures had died horrible drowning deaths in the pools surrounding the hills. Where the zombies were dried out and shriveled, these corpses stank and were visibly rotting. She nearly became ill from the smell. Neeshka doubled over and vomited as one of them lifted a putrid fist and brought it with a thunk onto the back of her neck. It was Elanee who best kept her wits about her, brandishing her little silver sickle and subduing their attackers.

They descended back in the direction of Neverwinter amid piles of the stinking dead. By this point, Adahni was so exhausted that her head ached and her neck was stiff as a board. Neeshka lagged behind, still visibly nauseated. Even Khelgar kept his mouth shut, his beady eyes focused on the road ahead of them.

What they saw at the bottom of the hill made Adahni's already aching head swim and her heart drop to her stomach. He stood there, living or dead she was not sure, but she was pretty sure that the four professional-looking swordsmen behind them were of flesh and blood. "It's another one," Khelgar said, "By Tyr's right buttock, how many of them are there?"

"Druidess, we have come for you," the Shadow Priest declared, its voice deep and unearthly, "You have felt us in the land – now feel the touch of darkness upon you."

"Bugger and damnation," Khelgar hissed, "You three take the priest, I'll take care of the mercenaries no problem."

He, fortunately, was not joking. In a flash of tempered steel, the mercenaries were in pieces on the ground and Khelgar was pulling two arrows from his left shoulder. The priest went down after a bit of a fight. The victory, however, was hardly heartening. She knew in the pit of her stomach that she would meet him – or someone very like him – again.

The four of them were too unsettled to set up camp there and wound up walking the long journey back to Neverwinter right away. They dragged themselves, exhausted and battered, back to the Sunken Flagon.

Elanee and Neeshka went to their bunk room which, by the good graces of Silvanus, Tymora, or whoever was looking out for them, they did not have to share with the ill-tempered Qara. She was relegated to sleeping by the fire in the scullery, which Adahni found terribly fitting.

Adahni tumbled into her large, soft bed. The sun was already high in the sky, but it may as well have been the dead of night. She tried the light trick again, but either it didn't work or it was simply too bright for her to see the results. Aasimar, she thought, so was her father an angel? Or, was she simply the daughter of two earthbound aasimar? But if she was, then where did the draconic blood come from? Of course, draconic blood was not hard to come by. Clearly even Qara had enough to allow her to destroy rival magicians and inn roofs with a crook of her finger. But what if there was more to it than that?

Despite being so tired that her joints ached, she could not find sleep, not even in her most comfortable cotton shift. What if I'm not doing what I ought to be doing? What if there's more out there for me to discover and I'm wasting it all doing stupid tricks with drinking songs? She did what she always did when in such a state; she looked for something to read. There was precious little, she had learned in her scant twenty-four years on Faerun, that had not been discovered and written down. She started going through the book shelf that Duncan had left in the room given to her. The Song of the Relentless Poet_ ...no. _The Magical Misadventures of Menutia Miggins_... what in the hells? Sea _Shanties of the Sword Coast_... read that_. On a whim, she shut her eyes and picked a book at random. Without looking at it, she leapt back into bed and forced her heavy eyelids back up to examine it.

The Way of the Red Dragon: a Disciple's Primer. _Well, Tymora, I see you've spun your wheel and lead me to something halfways interesting, I hope_.

She fell asleep with the book, half finished on her pillow, and she had a vivid dream, more vivid than any she had had before.

_The dragon was leading her up into the mountains. She followed, and realized that she, too, was a dragon, with scarlet scales. She beat her wings and let loose a raucous cry, soaring over hill and dale, up to the highest of the mountains. They were ringed by clouds, and below the villages were no bigger than her thumbnail. Even the vast expanse of Neverwinter was minute and trifling in her dragon's eyes. She flew low over an encampment of puny little insignificant creatures, and realized that they were Fire Giants. They aimed arrows and bolts at her, but they bounced off without even hurting her. Her skin was thick and scaled and unpierceable. Nothing could touch her. She was invincible._


	8. When I Was Young, I Had No Sense

_Nine Years Ago, Luskan_

* * *

The Cuckoo's Nest was, on the face of it, just another scuzzy bar near the docks in Luskan, where pirates still took refuge even after the destruction of their hierarchy. As they strode through the gates into the district, Adahni caught her breath at the scale of it all. She'd never been to a city before, and was a little disappointed when Dayven took her by the arm and led her inside the bar room. She was innocent, a little farm girl from Westharbor, but not innocent enough not to recognize the ladies with the black roses pinned between their bosoms. Dayven bought her a beer and watched her take it all in, the sailors, the longshoremen, the odd nobleman dressed in expensive clothes, always in the company of the youngest or most beautiful of the black rose ladies. The ladies laughed confidently and flirted with their customers, always seeming the have the upper hand. Adahni saw power in every one of their gestures and, in spite of herself, coveted it.

"What do you think, Addie?' Dayven asked, "About working in a place like this?"

"And would you still respect me in the morning?" she asked, laughing.

"It's an old and honorable profession," Dayven said mildly, "But that's not what I'm talking about. Kath wants a sturdy girl to serve drinks and maybe sing a song or two. No funny business at all, just good, honest work." He sat up in his stool and waved.

The proprietress, a stout, redheaded woman in her fifties, strode over. She wore heavy makeup, dark green eye paint and rouge on her cheeks on lips, but this had the effect of making her more intimidating instead of soft and feminine. She smiled down at Adahni, but quickly snapped at Dayven.

"And where've you been, lad?"

"I went home. Briefly. To fetch my betrothed," he put his arm around Adahni's shoulder, almost as though he were hiding behind her.

"Ah, so you're the lucky girl. Kyla over there was giving you a run for your money, thought I was going to lose my best whore! Young Davy here says you know your booze and can carry a tune," Kath said.

"Well I do know my booze," she said, smiling and feeling the color rise in her cheeks.

"And modest too," Kath said, "Too cute by half. How old are you?"

"Sixteen this autumn, ma'am," Adahni said.

"Not so young, then. Well what do you say?"

"Sure," Adahni said.

"Wonderful!" Kath exclaimed, "I hope you don't mind sharing quarters for now, with Kyla over there." She gestured again, but this time Adahni followed her gaze to a green-clad beauty with a black rose between her breasts. She glanced back, waving slightly, and Adahni suddenly felt very young and small and powerless. Kath beckoned the woman over and she walked, smoothly, as though she were sailing, across the room to them.

"Listen dear – what's your name?"

"Adahni Farlong," she replied, "Everyone calls me Addie, though."

She stuck out her hand to the green-clad woman, who cracked a smile, her teeth showing very white against her tanned skin.

"Kyla," she said, shaking her hand. Kyla was taller up close, almost Dayven's height. She had long, reddish brown hair that was swept up in a large topknot, and amber-colored eyes that rivaled Adahni's topaz.

"So you're going to tend bar and play music? See that you wear a white rose, dear. The regulars always pounce on a new girl," Kyla said. In Adahni's experience, most pretty girls had been snotty and mean to her, but this Kyla was downright nice, "I won't be much of a bother as a roommate. I work all night most nights and then I have to get back before my little brother wakes up."

"You have a brother?"

Kyla rolled her eyes, "He's nine and a right little brat when he wants to be. Since my mom died it's been me and him and he isn't... adjusting... too well to the situation. I rent a small flat in the district, a few blocks away. Having a room at the inn here is mostly a formality. You'll be on your own except when a customer doesn't want me sharing his bed after I'm done with him."

"And that's not very often!" Kath said, putting one fat arm around Kyla's slender shoulders, "Kyla here is one of our top earners! Who knows, Addie, maybe when you're a little older you'll join her line of work! Swarthy complexion likes yours isn't common around these parts, and all men want uncommon women, why... a little paint around your eyes and..."

Adahni blushed red and shook her head from side to side, which made both Kath and Kyla burst out laughing.

"Where will you be staying?" she asked Dayven.

"With my guild," Dayven said. He didn't specify further, and Adahni didn't press him. Dayven's business was just that – his business - and she didn't care enough to pry, "I can stay some nights with you, when Kyla's with her brother."

Her face must have been troubled, for he took it in his broad, callused hands and kissed her, "It won't be long love. With both of us working, we'll make enough money to marry soon enough. House around these parts, nothing fancy, costs around ten thousand gold, and I wouldn't think of marrying you without having a threshold to carry you across!"

"I thought we'd go back to Neverwinter."

"We'll see, love," he said, "We'll see."

Before the year was out, she had learned to hate those two words above any other.


	9. The Madame of the Mask

The next day, they rose past noon and went to report to the watch station.

She smelled it before she saw it. Smoke was rising up into the otherwise clear air, and not the pleasant smell of wood smoke. This smoke was acrid and made all but Elanee's eyes water. Flames licked the walls of the watch building. She looked down at her skin. _I've walked through fire before_. Instinctively, she ran up to the building to try and get in, to see if anybody was still alive in there. A burly watchman caught her around the waist and tackled her to the ground. Her head hit the cobblestones and a wave of nausea swept over her as a smell not unlike roasting pig wafted from the building. She struggled, but he was bigger than her and pinned her soundly.

"If you want to help," he said, letting her up, "You'll grab a bucket and make sure the rest of this district doesn't go up in flames as well!"

"There are... there are people in there," she said, "I can _smell_ them."

"So can the rest of us, lass," the watchman replied," There's nothing you can do for them now without burning yourself to a crisp as well.

"What... what happened?" she asked.

"War," he replied, "The bloodiest war Neverwinter's ever seen, if Captain Brelaina will let the men and I do what needs to be done."

"What do you mean?"

"The "good" Captain's been too timid out here... afraid to clamp down on this district. And this is what her caution has brought us. Listen, you seem to have some sway with Cormick. Go speak with him, over in the Merchant Quarter. Maybe you can get them to put a stop to this."

"Fine," Adahni said, "Let's go, then." She shot one backward glance at the building, feeling for the poor souls trapped in there.

* * *

The Merchant Quarter was separated from the Docks by the Neverwinter River, diverted through the city into a stonewalled canal. They made their way across the bridge, leaving the smoldering headquarters at their backs. It looked like it was in better shape than the Docks, but not by much. The buildings were mostly three stories high instead of two, the upper levels leaning in towards the streets, giving it the feel of deep forest. Adahni was looking up, taking in the houses and shops, when Khelgar nudged her.

"Someone wants your attention," he whispered.

Khelgar was mistaken. While there was a small band of men blocking the street and preventing them from crossing fully into the district, it was not Adahni they were looking at.

"I'm disappointed – I thought you'd be harder to find, Neeshka," their leader sneered. He was a large man, in his twenties but prematurely gray.

"Here we go again," Khelgar rumbled, "I see you didn't lay eyes on the corpses we left behind from the last band of thugs that were sent after goat-girl here."

"We've already gone through this," Adahni echoed, "Get the fuck out of here and I'll leave you legs you can get the fuck out on."

The leader began to speak, but Adahni ignored him, asking Neeshka loudly, "Who is this clown?"

"Name's Tremmel," Neeshka replied, "Bastard son of husband of the Luskan Ambassador and a local whore known for having the biggest ass this side of the Spine of the World. He'd be nothing but a whoreson if his noble father hadn't left him enough gold to buy his way in to a street gang."

"Leldon's not just paying me gold for this," Tremmel said. He was gray-haired, but it appeared to be more the result of unfortunate genetics than a factor of age, for he didn't appear to be a day over twenty-five. He did, however, favor his left ankle, a fact of which both Adahni and Khelgar took a mental note, "He's also bringing me in as his partner... just as soon as I bring him your horns."

"Partners? With Leldon?" Neeshka said, "Trust me, I'll be doing you a favor, killing you."

Adahni caught herself before she sighed with exasperation in front of the enemy. Neeshka might have been good for spotting whatever tricks and traps the insane or diabolically clever minds who designed castles and dungeons and crypts had left behind, but in a hand to hand combat, she was more of a liability than an asset. This was made more frustrating by how drastically her bark dwarfed her bite. She gave the band of thugs another once-over and announced, "This is getting tiresome. Let's get it over with."

They killed Tremmel, leaving him in a puddle of his own blood. There was one half-orc thug whom they left alive. In lieu of relieving him of his hand, Adahni sliced both of his cheeks down the sides. "Tell Leldon that Adahni Farishta sent you, and that if he's going to fuck with Neeshka again, he can expect a lot worse than that." The frightened thug just whimpered and ran off into an alley.

"Leldon's more obsessed than I thought," Neeshka said, "I wonder how many of his goons we'll have to carve up before he gets wise."

"Well if that one does what I said, we shouldn't have that problem. Still, I think it's time we paid Leldon a visit," Adahni sighed, "I'm not going to lie, I'm getting a little sick of this bullshit."

"All right," Neeshka said, "It has been fun screwing with his thugs, but it is getting harder each time."

"I'm not certain Leldon is the one we need to worry about," Elanee said quietly, "At least he makes his grievances plain."

"He'll know we're coming, though," Neeshka said, "Expecting us, like."

"All right," said Adahni, "So we fuck him up."

"Nah, too much fun to be had messing with his head," Neeshka said, "I think we ought to steal something of his."

"Please tell me it's something expensive and/or useful," Adahni sighed.

"A coin," Neeshka said, "He's gotten it into his head that this little coin he has is lucky. It's obnoxious, to say the least. We take it, and he's lost his mojo, and he leaves us alone."

"And what would that accomplish?"

Elanee interjected, sounding genuinely annoyed. "If theft got you... and us... in this trouble to begin with, I fail to see how it will solve matters by stealing again."

"He might leave us alone if I can show him once and for all who's best," Neeshka insisted. That bark again... and Adahni would bet a kingdom that it would be Neeshka that Khelgar would have to carry to the Temple of Tyr on his back.

"Well I still think we should beat him to a pulp," Adahni said, "After all it's what I do best. But whatever you say."

"This doesn't even make sense!" Elanee protested.

"All I have to do is prove I'm better than him, and he slinks off with his tail between his legs," Neeshka said, her red eyes snapping like they always did when she was frustrated.

"If he's willing to kill over a theft he won't stop just because you do it again!" Elannee said, raising her voice much higher than she was accustomed to, "Going to the Skymirror was something we could do to find out more about these shards and the Mere... what you're suggesting is some fool's errand that will accomplish nothing except stir up trouble."

"I _like_trouble," Khelgar said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Look, we already did what you wanted to do," Neeshka said, petulantly.

"You're not going to shut up about it until I agree, are you?" Adahni observed.

"Nope."

"Fine. We'll do it your way."

"Good," Neeshka said, smirking at Elanee, who scowled back.

"Where to?"

"Well I'm going to have to call in a few favors to figure it out. I think Ophala would know. Yeah... she might be able to help us."

"Ophala?"

"She owns the Moonstone Mask here in the Merchant Quarter. It used to be a place for people who... erm... needed some privacy. She's cleaned it up since the war, though."

"So she's a pimp," Adahni said, the bile rising in the back of her throat.

"She _was_a pimp. Now she's a madam," Neeshka corrected her.

"Same thing," Adahni said, "She sucks the life out of young girls like you and me for her profit. Call it what you like, scum of the earth is what she is."

"I wouldn't have pegged you as such an ardent upholder of morality," Neeshka said, rolling her eyes.

Adahni laughed, "Not morality. I've got no problem with a woman – or man for the matter – selling her body on her own, it's when a third party involved and starts siphoning off profits for himself that I get testy."

"I see," Elanee sniffed, still clearly put off by Adahni's decision, "And this is what so-called civilization gets us? A person performing a sacred, natural act for money?"

"Maybe if you performed a few more "sacred acts" yourself you wouldn't have your skivvies in such a twist about it," Neeshka said, "Look, like it or not, Ophala's the one we're going to have to talk to. If you two don't like it, you can wait outside."

Adahni led the way, though each step she took felt filled her with more and more dread. Neeshka skipped along behind, whistling the tune to "The Cuckoo's Nest," which Adahni found to be anything but amusing at this juncture. Khelgar plodded along behind, clearly looking forward to the prospect of ogling some of Neverwinter's young beauties. Elanee glowered along in the back, mumbling to herself.

"Here it is!" Neeshka piped up as they reached a large, free-standing structure. There were some normal-looking people holding a conversation outside. At least it wasn't the seedy den of sin that Adahni had grown accustomed to associating with a brothel. As she set foot inside, she was struck by how clean and elegant is was. There were a number of good-looking girls, some with black roses stuck in their bodices and a couple with white ones. Suddenly, the cleanliness and opulence of the place made the whole thing more insidious. At least, she supposed, all of the women looked to be at least twenty years old, some of the older ones must have been near fifty. She didn't see any of the cowering teenagers she was expecting, only poised, elegant women.

Ophala, standing in the middle of the room like an abbess among her novitiates, was a small, thin woman, half-elven perhaps. She wasn't pretty, but had lined her eyes with black paint that made her look a little off, almost frightening. She looked right past Adahni at Neeshka.

"Neeshka," she said, her voice clipped, nasal and decidedly upper-class, "Perhaps now was not the best time to return. Leldon is not in the best of moods since your last visit."

"So I see," Neeshka commented.

"You need to either make amends with him or pay him back what you owe him," Ophala said, raising her carefully plucked eyebrows. Adahni felt an old loathing creep over her, and narrowed her eyes at the madam.

"Owe him? I don't owe him jack shit!" Neeshka squealed angrily.

"Listen," Adahni said, leaning in to speak with Ophala, "This Leldon needs to be dealt with. Getting a little big for his britches, see?"

"It's dangerous," Ophala said, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"He's threatening Neeshka here, and she's a valuable sword arm," – lie – "I'd rather he die than her, so here I am," Adahni said.

"Yeah! What she said," Neeshka said.

"Fine," Ophala sniffed, "You can find him further north along this road. Hard to miss. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Yeah," Adahni said, glancing around at the women in the room, "So I hear this establishment used to be different before the war."

"Haven't smoothed out all of the rough edges," Ophala said, nodding.

"I see," Adahni said, "Where do your employees come from? Foreign?"

"A few," Ophala said, "Yes, a few of them came in on a ship from Amn, the market is in bad shape there and they thought they'd seek employment elsewhere. The rest of them are Neverwinter, born and raised, from the city or the provincial villages. Why the interest?"

"I don't like what it is you do," Adahni said, "I think it's disgusting, but you're going to do it whether I like it or not, so I might as well make sure that everything's... on the up and up, so to speak."

"I assure you," Ophala said, her voice icy, "I follow stringent ethical guidelines."

"I see," said Adahni.

"Why, may I ask, are you so concerned for the welfare of my girls?"

"Because you're a pimp, plain and simple," said Adahni, "I know your kind, and I figured while I was in the business of smiting injustice and dropping ice cubes down the back of tyranny, I might as well check in on the worst sort of bully there is."

"I am well within the bounds of both law and morality," Ophala said, "Ask Lord Nasher if you don't believe me."

"You know, I just might do that," Adahni said.

"Are you done interrogating me?" Ophala sniffed.

"No," Adahni said, "One more thing. The husband of the Luskan ambassador – does he come around here at all?"

"Mistress Claven's husband has been missing for over a year. Where have you been, under a rock? It was the scandal of the decade!" Ophala said, "And it's really none of your business whether he's been here or not. Luskan or not, my clients receive the highest degree of privacy."

"Thank you, Mistress Ophala. We won't be returning here." She turned on her heel and strode out of the place and her three befuddled companions followed.

"What was _that_about?" Khelgar asked, "What's your concern with some dead Luskan diplomat?"

"Well," Adahni said, "Neeshka said that that gray-haired lout we just relieved of his life was the son of the Luskan ambassador's husband and the whore with the biggest ass this side of the Spine of the World. Frankly, I've seen some pretty big ones and I was curious if she still worked there."

Khelgar guffawed and slapped his thighs, "You are a piece of work, lass, a right piece of work."

"Look there," she said, pointing to a large structure which exuded light and calm and peace, "That's a temple of Tyr, isn't it."

"Sure looks like one," Khelgar said, "How do I look?" He licked one thick hand and used it to smooth his reddish eyebrows, "Monkish?"

"Might want to jam the handle of your axe a little further up your ass. It'll give you the proper, uptight look," Adahni suggested.

Khelgar laughed and slapped her on the back, an act which sent her reeling. "You've a smart tongue on you. One of these days it might get you into trouble."

"I thought you liked trouble," Adahni said.

"That I do, lass, that I do," He reached up and put his hand on her shoulder avuncularly, "I'll be glad to send whatever trouble it is screaming into the nine hells. So long as there's ale at the end of it, of course. There will be ale, right?"

"Khelgar, old boy," Adahni said, "There will always be ale."


	10. Right, Wrong, and Money

The house that Ophala had led them to was, contrary to her characterization, extremely easy to miss. Fortunately, Neeshka knew what she was talking about. The rest of them stood under the window while the tiefling climbed up the outside, clinging to shutters and windowsills, until she made it through a small window in the attic. She had a flask of smoke that she'd agreed to toss if there was any trouble, so that the rest of them could go in and help her.

Two hours passed, and no smoke came out of the windows. Just as Adahni was getting nervous that the tiefling had been surprised and killed, her horned head popped out of a first floor window. The head was followed by the rest of her. An old coin, hammered out in gold and stamped with the seal of an ancient lord, hung on a leather thong about her neck, and clinked against her chainmail as she jumped to the ground.

"See?" she said, "Easy peasy." She skipped off merrily towards the main watch building in the Merchant District.

The passersby looked uneasily at the odd little tiefling. Her companions followed more slowly, drawing stares as well. The slight wood elf who looked quite transparently ill at ease in the city. The stocky bearded dwarf who wore an axe on his back and a scowl on his face. And the dark little harborman with brown eyes so pale they could have been called yellow, casting about at everything as though she would just as soon smash it as let it be.

Of course, this was completely a coincidence. Neeshka was in a good mood because she had just regained her good luck charm from an old enemy. Elanee looked ill at ease because she _was_ill at ease in the stone city of Neverwinter. Khelgar was in a foul mood because he was troubled by the fact that they, as good standing members of the watch, had stood by while Neeshka robbed a man blind. Adahni, though, Adahni was troubled by the mission ahead of her.

Brelaina was remarkably level-headed, especially compared to Marshall Cormick's take-no-prisoners attitude. She was a small woman, no taller than Adahni herself, with similar broad shoulders, but her manner made her seem large and imposing. She had instructed Adahni to head to a back alley on the Docks to stop some weapon's shipment, without really looking at the woman. They left for the Docks without Adahni having a real sense of what they were getting into, but at this point, they had little choice.

* * *

"Are you tired of cracking skulls yet, Khelgar?" she asked, sighing. They had made their way across the bridge by this time and were poking about in all the little crevices and cul-de-sacs of the Docs quarter, looking for a way into this neighborhood.

"Never," Khelgar replied, "At least this time it's for truth and justice."

"It's over here, stupid!" Neeshka called gaily from an alleyway just to the west, "Come on!"

Adahni went to where the tiefling was standing, but there was a bit of a confrontation going on in the alley in front of them. Some cowled lout was towering menacingly over a little boy, nine or ten if he was a day. "Maybe you've forgotten who runs this quarter, lad," the man growled, "Unless you and your little gang of ruffians want to be blacker and bluer than the harbor in a storm, you'll pay your protection money like everyone else."

"Nice city," Adahni remarked the Neeshka. She would have liked to have been able to say that she had never seen such a thing before. _There was another little boy once, _she thought, _Without a family, on the street all alone. And I let him go. I let awful things happen to him._ The past was the past, she reasoned, and if there was another boy she hadn't been able to save, she could at least do something for this little urchin.

"Bet you feel like a big man right about now, threatening a child like that," she called, jutting out her chin and sizing the man up.

She was summarily ignored. The man continued his speech, "Listen, boy, you're working for us now. Don't think you're not disposable."

The little creature cast about, appealing to the good citizens around them, "Please, da!" he exclaimed, his lower lip jutting out, "Don't beat me! I promise I won't drop the basket again!"

"Henh?" the thug grunted.

"I try my best, honest I do. Just don't beat me like Emma... she can barely walk on that leg now."

"Look at the poor boy," crooned a sympathetic onlooker, "Someone oughta..."

"It's not like that at all!" protested the thug, "This boy is a... well, he's a thief!"

"Let him go, you prick," Adahni snarled.

"Just what are you planning to do to this boy of yours?" the onlooker added.

"Come on, you inbred lout," Adahni added, "You know this can only end badly."

The man looked at her, and at the crowd that had by now amassed around the scene. He threw up his hands and shook his head. "You walk away this time, Wolf," he sighed, "This time..."

At this, the boy took off down the alleyway like a pack of demons were at his heels. Adahni spat at the thug's feet, and beckoned for her companions to follow her towards the black iron gate that separated the Back Alley from the rest of the district. Just through the gates were more ramshackle houses, some of them still bearing the scars of the Luskan war, and the inhabitants loitering between them were all armed to the teeth.

"Nice neighborhood," Khelgar remarked.

"Those are watchmen there," Elanee observed, "Might want to have a word with them first."

The watchmen, as it were, were in a conversation with a few seedy-looking individuals. They were civilians by their garb, but armed to the teeth.

"Bad feeling here," Neeshka announced, "I don't think these watchmen are of the squeaky clean sort, if you get my drift."

"You've been most helpful, Watchman," one of the civilians said, confirming Neeshka's suspicions, "Consider this gold a gift from friends – something to show you our appreciation for all your work."

"Well, we're just doing our duty... keeping the peace," the watchman replaced, shaking the purse that the civilian had handed him. It jingled merrily.

Adahni sighed, "Great," she groaned, "Fucking dirty pigs..."

"That's what I like to hear. Remember, let no one past you. It's for their own protection."

"Don't worry," the watchman assured him, "We'll keep our eyes open."

Adahni at first tried to follow the civilians further into the district, but was stopped by one gauntlet-clad hand on her shoulder.

"We won't be needing any extra watchmen tonight," the sergeant said, "Go on back. Find a bar or something. My lips are sealed."

"Kind of you to offer," she said, smiling sweetly, "But I have some business to take care of here. I'd appreciate it if you turned the other way and let me through. Nobody, not Marshall Cormick, not Captain Brelaina, needs to hear about this."

"Those thieves didn't pay us enough to risk our lives, sergeant," one of the watchmen on duty told his leader, "I'm not about to stand in the way of our own."

"Fine," the sergeant acquiesced, "Go on. Your own hide your risking."

A knife whizzed by Adahni's ear and landed in the wood behind her. She wheeled, and found the rogues that were talking to the watchman had been waiting. Blades flashed, spells were hurled, but in a few moments all of them were on the ground, dead or very nearly so. "Looks like we're going to have to hack our way through this one," she sighed.

"I'm up for it if you are," Khelgar announced brightly, and was about to draw his axe again, but Elanee put a hand over his arm.

"It looks as though there are two packs before us... and one pack looks to be members of the Watch," she observed, pointing to two groups of people, squared off.

"Those Watch. Moire must have gotten her hooks into them. Look – those turncoats are even keeping company with Dock rats," Khelgar added.

"They're just going where the money is. If you're going to risk your life, do it for the highest pay you can get," Neeshka said, irritably.

"Regardless," Adahni said after a moment's thought. She didn't want to get into any moral battles over right, wrong, and money. "We're going to need to figure out what to do about these thugs – and the Watch traitors."

"Forget I said anything – besides, neither of you have lived in Neverwinter to see how tough life can be here sometimes," Neeshka said.

"Hold your tongue," Adahni snapped, "If you had any sort of idea what kind of life I've lived, you'd be wise to keep your council to yourself."

"Bah!" Khelgar roared, "Traitors... they're lower than the foulest of demons. At least your kind don't pretend to be anything else."

"My kind?" Neeshka squealed in outrage, "I could say the same th-"

"The two of you – quiet down! You're going to attract attention," Elanee hissed.

"Listen, my interest is in keeping mine and all of your hides intact," Adahni, "As annoying as all of you are being at this moment, I wouldn't want to see you hacked to bits. I'm going to see what I can do to diffuse this before blades start swinging."

"These docks are composed of dead tinder," Elanee observed after a moment.

"You mean they're made of wood," Adahni said.

"Yes. I can keep a small flame from traveling far. It could distract the Watch for a time, but the thugs... we'd have to handle them."

"Good idea," Adahni commended her, "But.. let's let Neeshka do it. She's dealt with the Watch more than any of us."

"Too many of them to bribe," Neeshka said, "But the fire idea sounds good. Let me do it."

"Go to," Adahni said, "I trust you. For some strange reason."

Neeshka scurried off into an alley. A few minutes later, Adahni heard her shrill voice calling. "Fire! Fire!"

"By the Gods," one of the Watchmen sighed in exasperation, "Not tonight. All right, though, move to it before the whole Docks go up in flames."

"And where in the hells do you think you're going? Moire's paying you to stay with us – let the rests of the Watch deal with it," the supposed leader of the thugs protested.

"You paid us to look the other way, not let the Docks burn down. Stay here, we'll be back soon enough."

"All right, Khelgar," Adahni said, grinning down at the dwarf, "Just do what you do best."

Adahni took a few arrows, but they all either plinked off her chainmail or got caught in the broad wooden shield she wore on her left arm. "There!" she said, when the thugs lay bleeding and groaning around them, "I see a blockade. That must be our target."

She approached one of the men standing in front of a makeshift barricade erected haphazardly in the middle of the street. She took him by the shoulders and world him around.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, startled, "You're with the Watch. We're not looking for any trouble with you."

"So who are you looking for trouble with?"

"Can't you find someone else to interrogate? We're a little busy here."

"You don't sound like Moire's typical thugs," Adahni observed, "This wouldn't have anything to do with her, would it?"

"We hear Moire's gang is trying to smuggle in some weapons tonight. Word is she's getting ready for war – against the Watch. We can't let that happen; she'd drown the Docks in blood. So we're going to make sure that shipment never gets to her."

"At least we're both after the same thing," Adahni sighed.

"Don't you worry about that, lass. The boys and I have plenty of scores to settle with Moire's gang. They won't get through. But, I better warn you – there are other "friends" out there tonight looking to grab those weapons, and I don't think they'll be as reasonable."

"Thanks," Adahni said, "Good luck to you."

* * *

They wound through a few more twists and turns, reaching some dead ends and turning around. Eventually, though, they found their mark. The wagon was there, just like Brelaina had said it would be, but it was heavily guarded. The Watchmen proved harder to persuade than the first bunch, and it was with little regret that Adahni cut them down, along with their thuggish companions. Neeshka, as usual, was badly injured, but perked right up once the last of them was down. Elanee, too, took a sword through her shoulder, which Adahni patched up as best she could. When the bleeding was stopped, they took a look at the wagon.

"So that's that," Khelgar sighed, "We taking this wagon back to the Watch."

"Got a better idea?" Adahni quipped, "If not, start pushing."

"Wait a tic," Neeshka said, ripping off a length of bandage with her teeth and tying it securely around a gash on her wrist, "I mean, we could have found the wagon already looted, and the weapons nowhere to be found. I know this fence where we could get a good rate. Could be worth our while."

"And what? The weapons find their way back to the same cutthroats and murderers we've tried to keep them away from? Oh that's a fine idea!"

"If we give them to Brelaina, they'll just go into the hands of the same turncoats that have made our lives so much harder tonight," Adahni reasoned, "No one would be the wiser and I think we'd make better use of them than most."

"Great... just give me a second. I saw something under the piles of weapons here that no one will miss."

"Great," Khelgar sighed, "I've come to this city in search of warriors, and here I am, in the company of thieves."

"Ah, here it is. A little prize for us before we take these weapons back. And I don't think it'll be missed," Neeshka declared.

Back at the watch, Adahni silently admired her new rapier while waiting for Brelaina to look up from her paperwork.

"Lieutenant? What have you to report?" the captain asked.

"The smuggled goods were intended for a guild of thieves within the Docks, operating out of a warehouse near the Merchant quarter," Adahni said. She had gathered this one the way back, piecing together the bits from where she had found things, and the apparent organization of the thieves involved.

"Our informant was correct," Cormick sighed.

"All right," Brelaina said, "Now since you've done such a bang-up job, we'll need you to go deal with those for whom the shipment was intended."

"But... Blacklake?" Adahni protested.

"Not yet," Brelaina said.

Adahni sighed, "This is certainly a lot more annoying than I thought it'd be. Should have joined up with Moire when I had the chance."

"What was that?" Brelaina asked.

"Nothing," she said, and strode haughtily out of the office.


	11. On Keeping Ones Temper

"That sucked," Adahni declared as they left the warehouse. The thugs guarding it – and the incriminating documents inside - had not been surprised, and she imagined someone in the Watch had tipped them off. Her right eye was bruised up something awful, and some spellcaster on Moire's payroll had left acid burns on both of her hands, "This is decidedly not worth it. Another fight like that and I'll have to go crawling back to my father's lap." There was a good four pounds of documents weighing on her aching back, and she didn't even know if any of them were useful.

"What about the _shards_?" Elanee insisted.

"Fuck the shards," she grumbled, "Look at this! This is going to scar!"

"Stop being such a baby," Neeshka hissed, "Look, they sent reinforcements!"

"Yeah, about fifteen minutes too late," Adahni whined again.

"Shut up," Khelgar whispered, "We have company. Important company."

Adahni looked up to see a force of around ten armored men led by what looked to be a pretty important lord, judging from the tunic of Neverwinter he wore over his armor. He was young, maybe thirty or thirty-five, and handsome behind his dark beard. She was suddenly conscious of her black eye, the raggedness of her armor and cloak. She smoothed her hair back with one injured hand and turned her head so he wouldn't see her eyes.

"Need any help there?" she asked.

"Ahh, the City Watch," the lord almost sneered, looking at the ragtag band with disdain, "Commendable of Captain Brelaina to send... ahh... support, but we have things under control here."

"Is that so?" Neeshka asked, "Well, guess we'll just stand back and watch, then."

"You are welcome to observe, of course, but I'd appreciate it if you'd stay out of the way. This operation requires careful coordination, and you haven't had the training that these men have.

_Blow it out your ass,_Adahni thought. Instead, she said, "Understood. Can I ask what you're here for?"

"This is a delicate matter that has attracted the attention of Lord Nasher himself," he said. Then chuckled a little, "I'm sorry, that sounded rather pompous didn't it."

Adahni decided at this moment that perhaps he wasn't so bad, "No offense taken," she said, looking him in the eye. She saw him wince as he saw her face.

"Good to see that the Watch can still find level-headed recruits. You seem sincere enough..."

"Farishta," she said, "Lieutenant Farishta." The title sounded strange coming off her tongue, but it was in a language that this well-groomed lord, who looked as though he'd never seen a day of battle, would understand.

"We received word of weapons being smuggled into this district and have tracked down the distribution point to this warehouse."

Adahni clicked her tongue behind her teeth. "Hate to tell you, but I've already sent the weapons back to Captain Brelaina."

"What? When did this happen? We were told to expect strong opposition."

She raised her eyebrows, and looked back at her companions. Neeshka had received nasty slash across her forehead that was swiftly soaking through the bandage that Elanee had tied around her head. Elanee herself was cradling a broken wrist. Only Khelgar beamed with health, and he was spattered in the blood of their enemies.

"I was about to head back to my post from taking care of it when I saw you."

"Lord Nasher will be most pleased to hear the news," the lord said, smiling at her benevolently, "This should help the Watch's position at the next Council meeting. I, ahh, I must confess that there are those of us who were beginning to question the competency of the Watch – and its leadership. I see that I have been mistaken."

"Well you can tell Lord Nasher we have things under control."

"You heard it lads! The Watch has things under control here!" he gave her a perfunctory bow, "Thank you again. You've saved me a lot of trouble, and possibly the lives of many of my men. I shall report the good news to Lord Nasher right away."

The unit turned as one and walked out. The lord turned as he walked away, and if Adahni hadn't known better, she would have sworn that he winked at her. She grinned in spite of herself as the four of them made their pitiful way to the Temple of Tyr.

"Well aren't you the well-mannered one," Neeshka commented, "Why didn't you just kneel and kiss his boot while you were at it."

"Who was he anyway?" she asked.

Neeshka rolled her eyes. "That'd be Sir Darmon. From Nasher's guard."

"And how do you know that?"

"I robbed him a couple of times," she replied, smiling.

"Ha!" Adahni laughed out loud.

"I assure you, his bedchamber isn't really that hard to get into," Neeshka said slyly.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on," Neeshka said, "It's like you flip a switch when there's a handsome man around. Remember that lad from Highcliff? You went from cutthroat slayer of zombies to a giggling, blushing milkmaid in the space of five seconds."

"I'm only human," Adahni sighed, throwing up her hands, "The last thing I need is lip from you of all people, Neesh."

"Now that you mention it, we might want to get some handsome young men to join this little band of ours. No doubt our leader'd be a mite more pleasant if there was always someone around for her to impress," Khelgar remarked.

"I'm not unpleasant!" Adahni protested.

All three of them turned their eyes towards her, six eyebrows raised in the air.

"Fine," she sighed, "I haven't had a drink in nigh on a week, go easy on me here..."

* * *

They had been walking through the park, out of earshot of the small troop. They made it to the Temple in a few minutes. Oleff, the judge who spent his days in the library of the temple, bathed them in the healing light of Tyr. The blood drained from her bruises, the burns on her hands blistered and then healed over, leaving her perfect and scarless. Elanee flexed her mended hand and cracked her knuckles, and Neeshka ran one finger over the place where her forehead had been layed open. "Thanks, judge," Adahni said, grinning. Oleff bowed humbly and sent them on their way.

"You know," Khelgar said as they reached the Watch headquarters, pausing outside the door, "If we go back to Brelaina now, she's only going to send us on another fool's errand."

"It's pretty unavoidable," Elanee added.

"But," Khelgar said, "We've been up dawn to dusk for days now. I could use an early night."

"By early night he means carousing until four in the morning and downing enough ale to floor a troop of orcs," Adahni said, "Not saying that it's a bad idea, of course."

"Listen, Khelgar drinking himself into a puddle of his own vomit and Adahni into bed with some random man is not getting us any closer to dealing with these shards," Elanee scolded, "I would really prefer for us to accomplish whatever it is we need to accomplish. The Mere _needs_ us."

"And we need a break," Neeshka said, "I'm usually not one to agree with barrelhouse over here, but I am getting a bit tired of having no downtime."

"Compromise," Adahni said, "We go in there, have a chat with Brelaina, and inform her that we're going to need the night off and whatever mission she gives us will be accomplished first thing tomorrow morning."

"Or second thing," Khelgar said.

"Or that," Adahni sighed, "Come on, let's talk with the captain and then we can head back to the flagon, and Elanee can go climb a tree or something."

They found Brelaina and Cormick in another argument, this time about the corpses of watchmen found in and around those of the thugs in the area. Cormick was insisting that they had been turncoats which, of course, they had been. Brelaina maintained that they had died in uniform and they ought to be buried in a decent crypt with the proper pomp, ceremony, bagpipes, and all that.

"Ah, Lieutenant!" Brelaina exclaimed, evidently eager to find a way out of the conversation, "Congratulations on your efforts at the warehouse – a great deal of gold and weapons were recovered. It's good you were able to deal with the smugglers so quickly, for we have a new problem. Time is of the essence."

Khelgar groaned audibly.

Brelaina cleared her throat. "One of our best informants, Fihelis, has been exposed – even now, killers are hunting for him."

"We can't afford to lose him," Cormick said, all thoughts of sending the bodies of the turncoats straight to the Tomb of the Betrayers leaving his head, "He has risked much to help Neverwinter over the years. If he dies, then we lose our best shot at taking back the Docks. He cannot walk the streets without an escort, so he is hiding in his house here in the Merchant Quarter until we can send someone, someone we trust of course, to get him and bring him back here."

"Pffff," Adahni sighed, "Fine. What must I do?"

"We want you to go to his home, and return him here safely. I told him to expect no one but you and your companions."

"The reason for this secrecy is to keep him safe from any turncoat Watchmen," Cormick said, emphasizing the last two word and directing them at Brelaina, "What Fihelis knows can wound both groups, especially any Watchmen being paid by Moire."

"We need you to leave without delay. Make haste, and return him safely to us."

"All right," Adahni said meekly, "One more, guys, I promise we can have a night off after this one."

Khelgar groaned again, but put a bounce in his step as he walked out of the headquarters. Neeshka and Elanee lagged behind, but followed, as they went back through the park. Fihelis's estate stood behind a wrought iron great and was not a little extravagant, Adahni thought, for the type who would rat out his gang. "I see both sides are paying him well," she observed, looking up at the stone walls.

"Bet he's got some nice stuff in there," Neeshka said.

"Shut up," the other three chorused.

The interior of Fihelis's estate was as nice as the outside. He had store rooms upon store rooms filled with crates, some pried open to reveal the bounty within, and some still shut tight. It was oddly silent, and more than a little creepy, walking the empty halls, and even more so when all four of them realized that the place was anything but empty. Blades flashed out, seemingly from nowhere, and before Adahni knew what was going on, they were surrounded by black clad rogues. She bit back a scream, and did her best to keep herself and her companions alive, until a club came down hard on the crown of her head and everything went black.

She awoke to Elanee's voice chanting something over her, and felt the pain lift away. She sat up, "What happened?"

"You were only out for a moment, lass," Khelgar reassured her, "Come on, then, let's press on."

She heaved herself to her feet, casting this way and that. The rest of the fight was a bit easier. She felt stronger, and even sang a few bars of a battle song in between skirmishes with small groups of thugs to keep their spirits high.

Neeshka was right about the house. It was huge; it just kept going up and out and up and out until they reached the top floor, where, nestled into a small room behind two storerooms, were standing two rogues, a respectable-looking blond man in the garb of a noble, and a woman who could only have been Moire herself.

"There is a price for betraying your own, traitor... always. And the one you shall pay is quite high indeed," Moire was cackling. She looked a little silly, dressed all in green, her red hair twisted behind her head and held in place by a half-mask that covered her eyes and the bridge of her nose, "Bring him with us. I need some answers for him before I cut out his tongue."

"So you're Moire?" Adahni remarked, looking at her, "Funny, I thought you would have been a little less ridiculous looking."

"Ah," Moire sighed, whirling, "So you are the one that's been causing me so much trouble. I had thought the tales of a _competent_member of the Watch were just stories to scare my men. I am Moire, yes. My men have been insisting that you are the sole reason for my difficulties in the Docks." She drew a nasty-looking stiletto from its scabbard and fingered its razor-sharp point, "It has been a long time since I've killed someone in a fight... I've missed it. And here you are, to make up for lost time."

"I don't go down that easy, sweetheart," Adahni assured her.

"I wish I could take my time with you, but I'm in a bit of a hurry."

Disappointingly, Moire's three guardsmen did not put up nearly as much of a fight as the men on the way in. Moire, however, was a bit of a swordswoman, evading Adahni's thrusts. Adahni motioned Khelgar to stand back as she crouched, as Bevil had taught her to do, to keep her balance. Moire's style seemed to be to dance out of the way when Addie attacked, and then to thrust herself back into her face when she was on the defensive. Adahni leaned back, shifting from foot to foot as though ready to intercept a blow. When Moire attacked, she brought her rapier up and used the gang leader's momentum to thrust it right through her ribcage and, if the fountain of blood was any indication, into her heart.

Wiping the blood from her eyes, Adahni confiscated the stiletto from the corpse, snapped it across her knee, and tossed it on the ground. She approached Fihelis then, who was looking at her in a mix of admiration and terror.

"I thank you for your intervention," he said, "But the danger is not yet over. You must get me to safety."

"Do you have someplace in mind?"

"I need to see the Captain. Moire may own the Docks but I doubt even she would have the manpower to launch an attack on the Watch here in the Merchant Quarter."

"Yeah," Adahni agreed, "Especially since she's dead. I just killed her." She gestured with her rapier at the still-spurting corpse. Let's get moving, genius."

Brelaina was pleased and more than a little relieved to see them all back, mostly in one piece. "You have done well lieutenant. Fihelis is safely back under our protection."

"Yeah I know," Adahni said, "I brought him here."

Brelaina ignored her rudeness, "You are to be commended for your efforts on Neverwinter's behalf. Now that the matter is settled, perhaps we can turn our efforts to problems outside Neverwinter's walls for once."

"You... what... outside? Blacklake!" Adahni blustered, too shocked to think of the proper connecting words. (These were, incidentally "want me to do" "you bitch" "Neverwinter's Walls? But we're the damned _city_ watch!" and "For fuck's sake let me into...")

"Patience, my dear girl, patience," Brelaina said, smirking a little.

_She's got me at the end of damned string! Gods almighty, between her and that redheaded bitch I just skewered I don't know which would be worse. _Adahni wailed inwardly.

"The Docks would not prove so important and tempting to thieves if trade routes around the Mere were not so dangerous. And now there is the matter of a missing emissary from Waterdeep."

_Who the fuck_cares _about a Gods damned emissary from wherever the fuck he's from?_

"Augh," Adahni sighed, putting her face in her hand and groaning, "So what happened to this emissary?"

"There is nothing we can be certain about, other than that he has not yet arrived. For security reasons, Waterdeep failed to even tell us the route he would be taking. We suspected bandits at first, but scouts have been able to find no trace of an attack or ambush – at least those scouts that have returned. I am afraid that he may have run afoul of the orc tribes that infest the region."

"So, what you're basically telling me is," Adahni, her face still in her palm, "That you don't know what road he took, you don't what happened to him, you basically have no idea about anything, and you want me to wander out into the wilds in hopes of finding him."

"Correct."

"Can you at least tell me who he is?"

"We don't know who Waterdeep sent specifically."

"Awesome," Adahni sighed.

"But he'll be carrying documents proving his identity. He should have arrived here a full week ago."

"So now what you're telling me is," Adahni said, "You don't know what road he took, what happened to him, who he is, but that somewhere, out there, in the mountains with the orcs and the wolves and whatever other big, nasty things with sharp teeth there are, there is a man with a piece of paper on which is written 'I am the Waterdeep Emissary,' and I am supposed to wander out there and find him."

"Correct again."

"And if we find a piece of paper on which is written 'I am the Waterdeep Emissary' on a corpse?"

"If you can find any sign of him in Old Owl Well, then we would welcome news of his fate. We need the trade and diplomatic relations with Waterdeep, especially in these difficult times with Luskan. I have other matters to attend to – return here when you have found the Waterdeep Emissary, and we will speak more."

Adahni sighed again, but snapped a salute, and walked out. "You have got to be fucking kidding me," she muttered.

"My congratulations to you lass," Khelgar said, clapping her on the back, "Considering what I've seen you do, I must say, you kept your temper rather well."

"Gods almighty, if I had wanted to go wandering around in the damn woods any more I would have joined the Greycloaks," she grumbled, "If I'm not mistaken, Old Owl Well is a good few day's journey, the terrain being rough as it is. I say we deserve a couple of days off. After all, that emissary isn't going to get deader if we delay."

Neeshka and Khelgar went back to the bar. Elanee, with permission, left the city and disappeared to Gods knew where with a promise to return in a day or so. Adahni went and sat on the end of a small, unused jetty, trying to cool her head. After a few moments, she felt someone behind her and put her hand on the hilt of her rapier.

"Don't bother. If you turn around I'll be gone," said a voice behind her. It was familiar, but what with all the new characters she had been met in the past three weeks, she didn't have any luck placing it. It belonged to a man, that much she gathered, a young man, probably in his early twenties or late teens. She sat still.

"What do you want?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the black water.

"I know who you are," he said.

"Congratulations," she replied, "So do half the criminals in this district."

"No. I know who you _are._"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You can't escape it entirely, you know," he said, cryptically, "It haunts you, it chases you and nips at your heels like a wolf."

She froze, the chills going up her spine.

"And how do you know that?'

"I know you," he said, "I _am_you."

She turned her head, trying to sneak a glimpse of the stranger who had been standing behind her, but when she looked, he was gone. She made her way back to the tavern, by now too creeped out to be angry anymore.

When she entered the barroom, the dwarf and the tiefling were trading words. She slipped past them, seated herself at the bar, and motioned for Sal the barkeep to draw her an ale. This he did, and set it before her with a smile.

"Goat girl," Neeshka scoffed, "I've never heard _that_one before, Stumpy."

"Bah. You're not trying. That's a nickname, not an insult," Khelgar retorted, "We Ironfists call our own children 'stumpy,' you... skinny... bull."

"Go back to your drinking, Moss-breath, at least you're good at that," Neeshka responded.

"At least you two are easily entertained," Adahni commented.

"Amateurs," Qara said airily from where she was sweeping the floor.

"Amateurs?" Neeshka gasped, "Why, Khelgar, the Queen of the Scullery thinks she's better than us, Khelgar."

"Is that so?" Khelgar chuckled, "You're the one wiping the tables, your highness."

"You two wouldn't know an insult if it walked up and bit you."

"Well then," Neeshka challenged, "Why don't you show us how it's done, fire-hair?"

"Firehair," Qara, who was wearing an apron over her red tunic, said, "Imaginative and biting, with just the slightest hint of wit. Is that really the best your demon blood and squeeze out, tail-for-brains?"

"My brains are not in my tail."

"So, what are they right next to it? If so, might want to loosen the back of your pants a notch, because even with the hole, they're obviously not getting enough air."

"OK," Neeshka said, "Explain that one to me."

"Well, she said your brains are next to your tail, which would imply that they're in your rear end, and that you breathe through your – "

"Okay, okay, I get it, all right? Little witch."

"Don't take it so hard," Khelgar said, "I had to explain it, which means the insult's a failure."

Qara let loose another stream of insults, this time directed at Khelgar. His honor, his manhood. Dwarfhood. Whatever.

"The lot of you hold your respective tongues," Adahni said, taking a gulp of ale, "Neeshka, if you head was any thicker, Khelgar could use it as a shield, Khelgar, you smell like yesterday's laundry and Qara... well Qara's worse than either of you only she doesn't have the brains to realize that wiping down the table here is the highest she'll ever rise in life, a life that, if she doesn't shut her abnormally large mouth, will be cut tragically short."

"Why I never!" Qara exclaimed, "I could turn you into a pile of cinders with a wish and a crook of my finger!"

"I'd invite you to try, but this is my uncle's establishment and as I told you before – or perhaps you were too busy having a catfight with those two blue-clad bitches – I need a place to stay. I'm not like you, I don't bunk down the crew's quarters of every ship that docks here."

She chugged the rest of her ale down, thoroughly fed up with the girl's attitude. Having a second thought, she rose, threw her empty tankard at the sorceress, who caught it in the air, and swaggered out of the barroom, followed by her other companions. Outside, an odd sight greeted the four. Five little children stood in a semi-circle around the door. One of them was Wolf, the young boy from the Back Alley. Another, a sweet little blond girl that Adahni had seen lifting the purse from a noble, stood beside him.

"There you are," Wolf declared, "I've been meaning to chat with you. You've helped me out of some scrapes, so I wanted to thank you proper. I've got a proposition for you – I hear you're friends with the owner of the Sunken Flagon. Me and my mates could really use a roof over our heads at night."

"A roof would be so good," the little girl sighed, batting her eyelashes.

"So the deal is, we'll help you out and you convince your friend to let us stay in the Flagon. Deal?"

"I think Duncan has an extra room up in the attic where he sleeps," Adahni said, "I'll talk to him. But what can you do for me?"

"You'll find there's plenty we can do for you, not much to ask letting us bunk up indoors instead of out, don't you think? I'm glad we've come to an agreement then. Dory, myself, and the rests will be by the Sunken Flagon. So you back here, then."

Adahni was not sure exactly what had happened, so she kept her mouth shut and watched the little urchins scatter into the darkness. There was room in the kitchen and store rooms for the little ones to sleep, she reasoned, and perhaps she could put one of them up to harassing Qara for her. A frog or two down that snotty bitch's tunic would go a long way.

"That's not what I meant when I said handsome young men joining us earlier," Neeshka said, "Don't you think he's a little young for you?"

Adahni just chuckled and patted Neeshka on the shoulder.


	12. Boys Will Be Boys

_Nine Years Ago, Luskan_

* * *

It really didn't take too much talent or hard labor labor get good at working a bar room. Adahni soon learned which ale was preferred by sailors from which region, how to play a rollicking jig and sing a dirty drinking song without blushing, and how to shift attention from herself onto one of the whores once the sailors got drunk enough to want a woman. The whores worked on a night-to-night basis. Some, like Kyla, worked most nights every week. They paid Kath half their take for the privilege of her customers; sixty percent if they wanted to use one of the rooms over the bar. Kyla was given the privilege of a single bed in the room she shared with Addie because of how reliable she was. She didn't stay there often, but when she did, they kept each other company, and had soon grown quite close. When she turned sixteen, Kyla gave her a little set of throwing knives with silver hilts. They spent the winter huddle around the fire together. Through this time, though, she only ever saw Kyla when they were at the Cuckoo's Nest, and she'd never lain eyes on the younger brother.

"So we know what brought me here," Addie said one day in the spring, a few months after she'd come to Luskan, "But what are you doing here?" She was lying on her narrow bed, practicing the harp. She'd never been as good at it as she was at the mandolin, but after a few weeks, with no chores to bother her during her time off, she was becoming skilled. Kyla was getting ready to work the room, struggling into stockings and corset, draping a gown of blue over herself and brushing her mahogany hair.

"How do you know I didn't grow up here?" asked Kyla, smiling slightly as she made a face at herself in the mirror.

"Just a feeling."

"Well you're right," Kyla replied, "I grew up in a little town just on the Neverwinter side of the border. Barnslow, it's called."

"Why'd you leave?"

Kyla's features darkened for a moment, but she smoothed them over quickly. "My father is a rat bastard," Kyla said, "My mother died in an accident two years ago, when my little brother was nine. I couldn't protect the boy from him like she could. So we left."

"That's it?"

"That's it," she replied, "And here I am."

"Why didn't you just get married?" asked Adahni.

"What?" Kyla asked, turning to look at her.

"Well, you're twenty-five years old and you just told me you've been here for two years, which would have made you twenty-three when you left. That's well into marrying age where I'm from."

"I'm not the marrying kind of girl," Kyla said, a little sadly, "I never really wanted to, so I just stayed on with my parents and tended the house and garden while they worked."

Adahni didn't question her further, but got the distinct feeling that Kyla was leaving out several important pieces to the puzzle. This was not a new feeling to her. After all, growing up with Daeghun had taught her never to ask too many questions, because your chances of getting an answer were slightly higher than a snowball's chance in the throat of an angry dragon. Adahni had learned to deal with this by learning everything she could about everyone every chance she could, but she knew when she had come up against a stone wall and that she really oughtn't try to budge it.

"Do you like your work?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Well don't you like it?" asked Kyla, laughing, "Don't tell me you're a virgin."

"No, of course I'm not," Adahni replied, rolling her eyes, "And yes, I do like it, but I've only ever done it with two men, and I've heard all sorts of awful things about it, what men want you to do..."

"Two!" Kyla exclaimed, chuckling, "Aren't you precocious! Or have you been running around behind Dayven's back?"

"No," Adahni said, blushing, "There was a boy, before Dayven and I became close. When I was fourteen." She paused for a moment, "He was a plowboy, only there for the harvest. I believed him when he said he'd return, and that he'd see me again. Shows what a fool I was."

"Not a fool, Addie," Kyla said, "There's no shame in a first love. Look at it this way. What if he'd come back, and he'd turned out to be an insufferable bastard? What if he'd hit you? You'd begin hating him. This way, you first love will always be a tender thing."

Adahni was quiet a moment, and acknowledged privately that the older girl had a point. She was already beginning to grow impatient with Dayven. She would go weeks without seeing him at all, and wondered why she had consented to come to this godsforsaken city in the first place.

"About your question, you're right and wrong," Kyla said, "Most of the men who hire me are just boys who miss their sweethearts and want a warm bosom to sleep on afterwards. Some are dockworkers who just want you to get on your knees and have done with it in fifteen seconds. I won't lie to you, though, there are those few..."

"Which few?"

"There are always a few clients who like to… well… they like to hurt you. For me it's a noble named Evendyn Claven. He took a shine to me, and he pays me well, but he also takes his usual pound of flesh."

"Pound of flesh?"

"He has… problems. With his… you know," Kyla said. Adahni found it amusing that one of the most prolific prostitutes on the Luskan docks was so coy about talking about a man's genitals, "He can't get hard without whacking me a few good ones."

"That's horrible!"

"That's business. He pays me enough for a month's rent. Books so my brother can continue in school. Firewood to keep him warm," Kyla countered, "Claven's asked me to see him at his house in about an hour, while his wife's away. I might need you to help me when I get back." She patted Adahni on the shoulder, complimented her harp playing, and left. Before closing the door behind her, she added, "Oh," she said, "Look in the closet. I got it as a present for Kyrwan. Kath doesn't know it's here and it could probably use a feed."

Thoroughly baffled, Adahni went to the closet. Inside was the usual mess; undergarments strewn everywhere, a few gowns hung haphazardly on the pole. In the middle of the pile of laundry, though, was a little ball of fuzz, sleeping by the look of it. Adahni stooped closer, lighting a candle to see better. It was a grey puppy, with its ears laid back against its head. It was snoring, a little bit, which was, of course, unbearably cute. She smiled involuntarily and went to pick it up. It woke up for a moment, looked at her unfocusedly, and then stuck its head on her bosom and went back to sleep. The mother's owner had probably sold the poor thing before it was old enough to leave her side, and it would need a few weeks to grow up a bit more before Kyla could entrust it to the care of an eleven year old boy.

There was a pitcher of milk that Kyla had left on the window ledge so it would stay cool in the early spring air and not spoil. She'd covered it in a cloth to keep the flies out. Adahni dipped the cloth in the milk, soaking it, and held it hesitantly to the pup's mouth. The little creature latched on and sucked it dry, and let loose a little yip, asking for more. She fed it for awhile, until it decided it wanted to play. Adahni had always grown up with dogs around; the Starlings kept several large hounds. She and the puppy chased each other around the room, the puppy leaning on its front legs and yipping at her, Addie darting around, squealing and making sudden movements to startle it. Eventually she let it catch her. It had tuckered itself right out, and decided that perhaps Addie's chest was a good place to sleep. It burrowed in there and began snoring again. It was small enough that Adahni could reach around it to keep playing her harp, until she, too, fell asleep.

When she woke up, it was later in the afternoon. The puppy had gotten up and climbed out of the, and now it was whining and squealing because the drop onto the flat roof below was higher than it could reach. It had, at least, had the courtesy to do its business out there, instead of in the room. Adahni walked over, reached over the ledge and lifted the little thing back into the window. It looked up at her with milky blue eyes and she petted its head. It tried to eat her hand, but failed, and settled with chewing on her sleeve.

Kyla returned after a few moments, blowing in the door, and seating herself on her bed. Adahni went to greet her, but when she laid eyes on her, her jaw dropped. Kyla's pretty amber eyes had both been blackened and bruised. Her jaw was swollen painfully on the right side. When she said hello, her teeth were stained red. Adahni's stomach sank. When she'd envisioned what would happen to her, she thought about being slapped, maybe, with the flat of the hand. Dayven had lost his temper a couple of times and hit her like that. It stung, but it wasn't that big a deal at the end of the day. But this… he must have beat her with his fists, and hard, for her to be this bruised.

"What... what in the hells happened?"

"I earned rent for the next two months," Kyla said, her speech slurred. She lay down on her bed and hid her broken face in the pillow.

"Let me... let me get you a potion or something," Adahni said, "Please."

"All right," Kyla said, "But what I'm going to need you to do is go to my flat, it's up the road a ways, above the butcher's. My brother should be there. His name's Kyrwan, looks a bit like me only smaller and more obnoxious. Give him this and tell him to pay the landlord." Kyla reached around and took a small pouch from her belt. Jingled the coins inside. Adahni took it hesitantly and tucked it into her sash, "And don't tell him about the wolf pup. It's for his birthday."

Adahni nodded, handed the little creature to Kyla who cuddled it tightly, burying her wounded face in its soft fur, hurried out of the door, into the cool of early spring. She went up the hill, away from the harbor. She'd see Kyla's brother first, and then go to see the alchemist about a potion for Kyla's poor battered body.

She found Kyla's flat all right, a third floor walk-up above a butcher's shop. It was empty though. The school books on the shelves weren't being read, and the two beds, one made and one tussled, were not in use. She went back downstairs, puzzled.

"So you think you're better'n me, eh?" she heard a young boy's sneering voice from the alley between the butcher's shop and a dressmaker that was next to it. She picked her way among the pig and cow skeletons that the butcher had just thrown into the alley for scavenging dogs, until she saw a group of boys, two of them around eleven or twelve, two maybe nine or ten, with a fifth one pushed up against the wall.

"I see the young lord ain't so high and mighty now!" the ringleader of the boys said. The other three, ragged urchins, echoed his sentiment, egging him on.

Adahni chuckled inwardly. Boys would be boys, and she imagined the lad against the wall, a real porker of a kid, had probably done something to deserve this. As she drew closer though, she saw with horror that the slight little lad who had been doing the talking was holding a knife against the chubby kid's throat and that that was very real blood that was running down and staining his shirt.

"What in the hells is going on here?" she shouted, her voice shrill.

"What business is it of yours, lady?" the ringleader asked. He took a step back. The fat kid managed to free himself and ran away as fast as his stumpy little legs would take him. The ringleader turned to look at her, and she saw that he had the same amber eyes as Kyla.

"Kyrwan?" she asked.

"That's my name," he replied, looking her up and down, "What in the hells do you want?"

"I'm a friend of Kyla's," she said.

Kyrwan's two friends snickered. "Are you a whore too?" one of them asked. He was met with a fierce back-hand from Kyrwan.

"Shut up, Lankin, we all know your mother does it with all the sailors, and for free," he said, "So what do you want?"

"I brought the rent money," she said, "I'd give it to you but something is telling me that perhaps I ought to turn it directly over to the landlord."

"Why didn't she bring it?" he asked, suspiciously.

"She's not feeling well."

"One of her johns roughed her up, didn't he," Kyrwan said, his pale face going pink, "Who was it? Let me at him, I'll kill him!"

"I don't know," Adahni lied, "Believe me I'd like to kill him too. But murder isn't going to get the rent paid."

"All right," Kyrwan said, though he was still visibly fuming. He held out his hand for the money, which she handed to him. He was a bully and a jerk, but the kid seemed to have some respect for his sister.

"Thanks..."

"Addie," she said.

"Thanks, Addie," he replied. She couldn't tell if he was being sincere or not.

"So," he said, smirking and jingling the coin purse, "How much, gorgeous?"

Inwardly, she laughed, but outwardly slapped him soundly across the face and walked away. She heard the other three boys whoop and laugh at him. She turned around once to see that his face had gone crimson and that he was scowling at her. He certainly didn't think it was funny.

She stopped by the alchemist's next, giving him the last of her week's pay for a healing potion. She tucked it into her bodice and hurried back to the Cuckoo's Nest.

She was sitting on her bed facing the window when Adahni returned. She accepted the blue potion and swallowed it, with difficulty. Immediately, the blood drained from the bruises on her face, her jaw went back to its normal size and shape. She grinned at Adahni.

"That's much better," she said, "How was my brother?

"Little scoundrel was about the cut the throat of some kid out back of the butcher's shop," Adahni said, "How old is he again?"

"He'll be eleven in a few weeks."

"Cause he also came on to me," she replied.

Kyla burst out laughing, "I'm sure he did," she said, "He better watch himself, it's not going to be cute much longer."

"It's barely cute now."

"I can't watch him like I should," she sighed, "I'm afraid of what he'll become when he grows up. All this trouble to get him away from our father and he's growing up to be just like him."

"I'm sure he'll grow out of it," Adahni replied.

"We can only hope."


	13. Old Friends

They took a turn around the district, winding up right back where they started. "Well what now?" Khelgar said, "We made a big show of walking out of the room, and now we've no place to go."

"I suppose we go back," Adahni said, "I didn't mean for you to follow me."

"Lass, following you seems to be the name of the game at this point," Khelgar pointed out.

"Fine, then, follow me back to the bar and we'll have another drink."

"Best idea I've heard yet," Neeshka said, "If I can still remember my name two hours from now, you know something's wrong."

They walked back into the bar. Qara, thankfully, was gone, but the boy, Wolf, flagged Adahni down on her way in.

"Got a message for you, if you got time to hear it – and aren't in a hitting mood."

"More trouble?" Adahni asked, raising her eyebrows, "Because I've had just about enough trouble for today."

"It's for her – the girl with the tail, it is. The one who sounds like a sneeze."

"Ooh!" Neeshka squealed, "I've never had anyone deliver a message for me before. Well, unless it's a threat. Or a severed limb."

"It's from one Leldon, big fellow in the Merchant Quarter. Says he wants to see you both, he does."

"That's it?"

"He'll be waiting for you and the fiend girl in the park. Without her, he doesn't show. Smells like a trap to me."

"Come on," Neeshka said excitedly, "Let's meet him. It'll be fun."

"I thought you were the one clamoring for a break from the action," Adahni countered.

"But won't the ale taste all the sweeter once we've beaten that jerk?"

"Fine," she said, "We'll go meet him and kill him, get it over with."

"Uh... well, we don't need to kill him," Neeshka said, "He's all talk, trust me. I mean, except for those few times when his men stole from him. He killed them. Oh, and that time someone touched his ale tankard before he was done, he killed him. Oh, and..."

"I get it, let's go," Adahni sighed, "Come on, Khelgar."

Khelgar was already two ales in by this time, but begrudgingly consented to accompany them, as a show of muscle, if nothing else. Elanee, of course, was nowhere to be found, and so Adahni did the unthinkable. She approached Qara, who was washing dishes in the scullery.

"You want to light someone on fire?" she asked.

"Do I ever not want to light someone on fire?" Qara responded.

"Dry your hands, and let's go."

Leldon was waiting for them in the park, a balding fellow in his mid thirties.

"Neeshka," he growled, "Long time no see."

"Leldon, it's been nowhere near long enough," Neeshka said, "You know I tried to visit you the other night but you slept right through it. Truth be told, I'm surprised you even had the spine to come here... seeing as you can't even steal a coin from me and keep it. Now, where could it have gone?"

"Give it back to me, girl," Leldon snarled, his pale blue eyes snapping.

"Always with the threats. Why can't you admit you just lost, Leldon? You'll never be as good a cutpurse as me... ever."

"I don't need to compete with you. Just kill you," he said, smiling sadistically.

"I thought you said the coin was Leldon's," Adahni commented.

"Of course she did, because it is her coin. It's worthless, but it seems to drive her crazy not having it, so I've kept it close by all this time in the hopes she'll come crawling back for it. And here she is, just in time to die."

"Great," Adahni sighed, "You're both barking mad. Fine, Leldon, just get the fuck out of here. Lay a hand on her and I'll slice you like a potato."

"You don't have me outnumbered like last time. So if you want a fight, then come on, we'll carve you into bits," Neeshka said.

"All right, men, you heard the lady," Leldon called to his thugs.

Leldon's fighting style, unlike Moire's was hard to predict. Khelgar was busy fighting the guards and Neeshka, as always, was hanging back, waiting for an opening. Adahni fenced with him a couple of minutes, but it was Qara, standing behind her, who dealt the deciding blow, summoning forth blue missiles from her hands which walloped the unsuspecting rogue hard.

"This isn't over," Leldon gasped, doubled over. "I swear it." He thrust a hand into his belt and threw what looked like a potion vial on the ground. There was a flash of smoke, and he disappeared.

"Phew... stupid smoke potions. He always does that when he's lost a fight – the coward," Neeshka commented, "Still, that should have taught him a lesson – he'll never call me "goat girl" again. Hey- thanks for your help. We'd better get out of here before more of his men show up.

They scurried, the three of them anyway; Khelgar scurried about as well as a newborn colt wearing high heeled shoes – back to the Docks. Adahni was really, really looking forward to a couple more drinks and sleeping in the next morning.

Back at the flagon – for the third time that day since they swore they would take some time off – Adahni finally got the privilege of changing out of her armor, having an icy cold bath in the wooden tub outside, and eat something hot while sitting at a table, feeling half way human. Neeshka quickly joined her, and they started playing a friendly game of cards. It became clear relatively quickly that Neeshka cheated, and cheated well, so Adahni, all smiles and winks, went over to a table full of young Calumshan sailors, and invited them to play.

A few rounds in, Adahni dropped out and let Neeshka work her magic. As she walked up to the bar in search of another beer, Duncan took her aside.

"Khelgar tells me you can carry a tune."

"Huh?" she asked, wondering where that came from.

"Well?"

"I suppose I can," she said, "I don't know why you would be bringing that up, though…"

"You see," Duncan said, slinging his arm around his niece's shoulder, "That dwarf there is going to drink me out of house and home."

"I can pay for his ale."

"Can you?" Duncan pointed to where Khelgar was seated on the floor in front of a keg, drawing himself pint after pint, laughing uproariously at nothing in particular.

"I see," Adahni said, staring in fear and awe as he tossed them back, never seeming to tire.

"Look, some of these sailors have brought whatever slut in off the street and would appreciate a dance, and if you might be able to scratch out something they can sing along to, I've found it really cuts down on the number of fights that break out," Duncan said, "Not to mention encourages them to buy more drinks. I used to have a bard, a greasy hack named Cain. He decided he'd go off to become a star and took the top notch lute we bought him. But now you're here."

"I am not your monkey," Adahni informed him, "But all right. You have a mandolin I can borrow?"

"I've a harp."

"Good enough," she replied.

The harp he handed her seemed to have been hanging on the wall like a painting for gods knew how any years. She dusted it off and tuned it as best she could. The strings were not as fine as the one that Lazlo had, but she liked the tone of it, and started picking out a lilting strathspey. A couple of sailors started dancing, clattering their wooden shoes on the floor. Qara didn't seem to like the racket, and liked it even less when one of them grabbed her around the waist and tried to get her to dance with him. She lit his sleeve on fire and retired to the scullery, where she sulked over a great mound of dishes.

Khelgar found this enormously funny, and cackled as he threw a tankard's worth of ale on the sailor's sleeve. The sailor raged and threatened to call the watch, until he saw the color of Adahni's cloak, and calmed down after Duncan offered him free ale every time he was in port. She kept playing through all of this, her hands finding the old familiar patterns. It was a bigger bar than the Cuckoo's Nest, and the absence of prostitutes was refreshing, except for the two saucy women working the table by the fire.

She switched to a reel. One of the prostitutes dragged a young sailor to his feet and they started dancing. The woman was probably old enough to be his mother, but she had all of her teeth and a pretty face and her bosom wasn't drooping. Adahni plucked the strings deftly, admiring how her skirts twirled and the black rose pinned to her collar. She remembered when she had admired herself that way, how she and Kyla had loved to dress each other up before work. Kyla had been so beautiful, so proud. No insult, no beating could bring her down. Tears sprang to her eyes at the memory of her friend, the closest thing she'd ever really had to a mother or a sister. She ended the reel abruptly to wipe them away.

"Aw come on!" the whore shouted. Adahni forced a smile and apologized, starting it up again. She played a series of tunes until her fingers grew tired. She put down the harp and cracked her knuckles. Most of the dancers were gasping and redfaced and ready for more ale. Funny songs were usually an easy sell. She could never be sure if the drinking songs she knew were the same as the ones they'd know, plus if she could make them laugh they might start buying her drinks.

_"There was a brisk young butcher as I have heard men say_

_He started out of his old shop all on a certain day_

_Says he, 'A frolic I will have, my fortune for the try_

_I will go to the nearest town, some cattle for to buy.'_

_When he arrived into town he came into an inn_

_He called for a hostler and boldly he stepped in._

_He called for liquor of the best, he being a roving blade_

_He quickly fixed his eyes upon a lovely chambermaid."_

A few drinkers had stopped their conversations to listen. Three of the sailors the Neeshka was busily cheating out of their wages did the same, and the tiefling took the opportunity to go through their purses. She giggled and kept singing.

_When she took up a candle to light him up to bed _

_And when she came into the room, these words to her he said: _

_"One sovereign I will give to you all to enjoy your charms" _

_And this fair maid all night to sleep all in the butcher's arms _

_'Twas early the next morning he prepared to go away _

_The landlord said "Your reckoning, sir, you have forgot to pay!"_

_"Oh no", the butcher did reply "pray do not think it strange"_

_A sovereign I gave your maid and I haven't got the change" _

_They straight way called the chambermaid and charged her with the same _

_The golden sovereign she laid down, prepared she'd get the blame_

_The butcher then went home, well pleased with what was passed _

_And soon this pretty chambermaid grew thick about the waist_

_'Twas in a twelve months after he came to town again _

_And then as he had done before he stopped at that same inn _

_'Twas then the buxom chambermaid she chanced him for to see_

_She brought a babe just three months old and placed him on his knee _

_The butcher sat like one amazed and at the child did stare _

_But when the joke he did find out, how he did stamp and swear_

_She said "Kind sir, it is your own, pray do not think it strange _

_One sovereign you gave to me and here I've brought your change"_

She got a chuckle out of most of them, which was, she supposed all she could really ask for. She played a couple more songs, but her fingers, which were unused to playing again after so long away from her instruments, grew tried quickly, and she sauntered over, drunk enough to actually be curious about the unshaven half-elf across end of the bar who seemed to be an uncle to her. He was deep into his cups, and redfaced after a yellow-haired girl had snubbed his advances.

"Well now," he slurred, "If it isn't my Harborman kin. What can Uncle Duncan do for you?"

"Tell me about Daeghun," she said, "And my mother."

"I can only say as much as Daeghun allows – he keeps his past close, despite how it keeps everyone else from him."

Adahni nodded, feeling a sudden pang for the only father she'd ever known.

"I knew your mother though," he said. He took a long swig of his ale, and Adahni got the distinct feeling that "knew" was an understatement, "I know you lost her early, terrible tragedy – during that attack on the village. But that's really Daeghun's place to say, not mine."

"I guess that's all I'm going to get out of you," Adahni said, a little sadly, "I suppose I'll just get drunk."

"There's a good lass," Duncan said, his eyes glinting with… were those tears?

"Do I look like her?" Adahni asked quietly, not making eye contact.

"Very much so," Daeghun said, "Your coloring is different – she was a blue-eyed blond. But your features… it is as though the gods made two statues, and painted them different colors. To be honest, it's taken some getting used to."

She nodded, sighing, and went back to her ale.


	14. New Friends

Two days from that time, with aching heads and gaps in their memories, our brave heroes set out from the Sunken Flagon, heading for Old Owl Well. Adahni had woken up that morning in the bunk that Elanee usually occupied. She imagined that she and Neeshka had stayed up gossiping all night, until she went back to her own room and found the tiefling girl sleeping in her bed between two naked sailors.

"Awww... Neesh, come on!" she groaned, leaving the room, "Now Duncan's going to have to wash those sheets."

"_I'm _going to have to wash those sheets?" Duncan called, "_I'm _not touching them."

They ate their breakfast in silence, Adahni glowering at Neeshka and Qara glowering at them both. Only Khelgar seemed to be in good spirits as they walked out of the door, evidently having had a good time emptying tankard after tankard and wiping down the bar with the face of a trashtalking longshoreman.

They traveled for the better part of the day, stopping to make camp when they grew weary. Adahni had to admit that she missed Elanee, if only for the shortcuts the druid knew. Adahni forgave Neeshka for her transgression, but only because of how damned unpleasant the redheaded sorceress was. She was in the middle of telling some elaborate joke when they happened upon a small campsite nearly hidden by tall grass and sagebrush. They would not have remarked upon it if it weren't for the little man standing there, reciting poetry to the bushes.

"Now this here is whitethistle, can give you the runs, you know, and I made up a song for it, quite a catchy tune... _Whitethistle, whitethistle, all in a row, in Neverwinter Woods they all grow." _

"Please, Neesh, tell me I don't sound like that," Adahni whispered.

"Oh!" the little fellow exclaimed, looking up at them, "Well met – didn't even see you standing there. Thought you might be a Wendersnaven at first, but I can see you, so I guess that discounts that."

"I don't have time for this," Adahni muttered, "Is this the path to Old Owl Well?"

"Well, I don't really know," the man replied, "And by that I mean yes. I just didn't have my head on traveling, so it'll take me a few moments to remember where I am – and where the Well of Owls is. Oh, but I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Grobnar Gnomehands, probably guessing where the last name comes from, don't you, well tends to confuse most people. Quite a collector – and maker – and teller of tales, I am, all the Gnomehands are, except the ones they hanged in Luskan." The little man – Grobnar – chattered on.

"If he doesn't shut up in the next minute, they're going to have to call him Grobnar No-hands," Khelgar said, and guffawed at his own joke. Adahni graced him with a giggle.

"So I suppose you think you're a bard," Adahni said.

"Indeed! I am a philosopher! A poet!"

"A dumbass," Khelgar added.

He kept going. He had a lot of lung capacity for such a small fellow, Adahni had to grant him that. She sat down on a rock and let her mind wander, only snapped back into reality when he stopped talking, evidently waiting for a response from her.

"OK, Gnomehands," Adahni said, "I know that you want to come with us, you've been hinting at it for the last hour. I can't take you with now, but if you want a job, there is a tavern in Neverwinter called the Sunken Flagon. I am their resident bard, and I, as you can see, am not there. Speak with Duncan, and tell him Adahni sent you. You can sing to your heart's content and have a warm place to stay, and if I need you I can find you there. Deal?"

"But I really thought that..."

"Great! I'll see you at the Flagon."

"But..."

"Bye now!"

The perplexed gnome started packing his things and had soon disappeared down the mountainside.

"Are you sure that was a wise move, lass?" Khelgar asked.

"He's Duncan's problem now," Adahni replied, "And if Duncan ever wants to get rid of him he better damned well have my violated sheets laundered before I get back. And meanwhile, we are at a perfectly respectable campsite, with a fire just waiting for us."

"You know, I sometimes have my doubts about you," Neeshka said, spreading her bedroll by the smoldering embers, "But every so often there are moments like these." She put her feet up on a rock, her hands under her head, "So what's for dinner?"

"It's not fair," Adahni commented. She had picked up a stick and was rustling around in the sagebrush and whitethistle, hoping to scare up a rabbit, "I sneak away with one village lad – just one! And Elanee's all over me for the next three weeks. But Neeshka... Neeshka can stumble drunk into _my_ bed with two unwashed sailors – _sailors! _– and Elanee isn't even here to comment."

"I'm sure _you're_ not going to let me forget it," Neeshka sighed, "I thought you and I were alike. A girl needs what she needs and who is anyone else to judge where she gets it from?"

Khelgar was putting his hands to his ears and humming to himself loudly, glaring at the two women. Qara was just looking at them in something like disgust.

"It's nice to know what I'm not just traveling with idiots, but whores as well," she sniffed.

"Oh boy!" Khelgar giggled, watching her mouth form the last word and taking his hands from his ears to rub them together eagerly, "She said it! She said that word again! Get her, Addie!"

Adahni just rolled her eyes, "Should have imagined you were as frigid between the legs as you are hot underneath the collar."

"I'll have you know..."

"That what?" Adahni said, "You've got teeth down there, don't you! I knew it!"

"That's disgusting!"

"So's your face," Neeshka called, "Both of you shut the fuck up, I'm trying to get some sleep."

They reached Old Owl Well around noon the next day, nestled into the foothills of the mountains. The hills rose up on all sides, giving way to threatening-looking mountains in the distance. Their destination was a large encampment, populated mostly by Greycloaks, but also with a few civilians, here and there. It was abuzz with activity, grey-cloaked soldiers training, their sergeants barking orders. Adahni cast about, looking to see who was in charge.

"It's the dwarf," Khelgar said, "He's the captain."

"It can't be," Adahni said, rolling her eyes, examining the blond, bearded dwarf who was deep in conversation with a captain. She drew closer.

"I want those walls up by evening. No excuses. The orcs aren't going to stop attacking just because we need to catch our breath."

"But sir," the captain protested, "The men are having a hard time finding the materials we need."

"You're telling me they can't find any stones? We're in the middle of the blasted mountains! Unless you'd like to report to Nasher that we're overrun because we couldn't find rocks, I suggest you drive some sense into your men and get that wall built."

"Yes, sir, I'll see to it, sir."

"I tell you, I've lost years off my life trying to get this rabble fit for service... and who are you?" he asked, turning to Adahni, "Reinforcements?"

"So you're leading these men," Adahni said.

"If one can lead such a disorganized rabble, then yes. Usually I just point them in the direction of the enemy and hope they stab the right person. I'm Callum. Commander Callum to you. Lord Nasher sent me here to secure Old Owl Well. So what are you doing here?"

"I'm after the Waterdeep emissary," Adahni said.

"Issani? He hasn't arrived yet, should have been here a week ago. I've sent a scout to look for him."

"Issani," Adahni said, "So he does have name."

"Ahh, you're the one from the city watch," Callum observed.

"I see this Issani had no idea he'd be entering a war zone," Adahni said, glancing around at the armaments.

"This assault has been planned for months. We weren't able to warn Issani ahead of time, though. We weren't expecting to be needing a new emissary, to be honest. Still, at least we'll be here to offer more protection."

"Why is this place worth fighting over?"

"Not exactly a student of history, are you? The Old Owl Well is the only known water source for three days in any direction," Callum said, gazing up at her arrogantly.

"Whatever," Adahni sighed, "So what do I do? Just wait here until your scout returns?"

"Oh no," Callum said, "No waiting around for you – I'm counting on you to help with our defense against the orcs."

"Maybe it would be better if I went to search for him on my own," she suggested.

"You may have to if my scout doesn't have any luck. Until then, though, you're staying here."

She sighed, and then started as a horn sounded. She drew her blade, and Khelgar did the same, evidently pleased to be serving under another dwarf.

"Why, _why _do we always show up just as the shit storm arrives?" Adahni moaned.

"Sound the alarm!" a Greycloak shouted, running through the camp, his face flushed with the effort.

"Great."

Adahni had never seen an orc up close before, and they smelled worse than she had imagined. She thrust and feinted, managing to dodge the worst of the blows and stand up to the lighter ones. The Greycloaks were better fighters than Callum had suggested, and put down the great brutes without too much trouble.

"Another orc raiding party," Callum said, holding a handkerchief to a small cut on his forehead, "We're lucky they haven't attacked in full force. Just wish I could make contact with whoever it is that's been distracting the orcs."

"Some else is attacking the orcs?"

"Yes – someone is out there attacking orc patrols, and it's giving us a chance to build up our defenses.

"So they're on our side."'

"I've been at this long enough to know that you need to control a battlefield – and this new ally of ours is something I can't control."

"Any idea who he is?" Adahni asked.

"The orcs have name for him – _Katalmach_. They say he attacks without warning, and without regard for his enemy's numbers," Callum said.

"Sounds like someone else I know," Khelgar commented, reaching up and patting Adahni on the shoulder, "And that's not a name orcs give lightly – it's a name they give to warriors who lose themselves in battle."

"It is odd that orc trackers couldn't find him," said a familiar voice. Adahni turned to see Elanee standing there behind her.

"How long have you been there?"

"About fifteen minutes," Elanee replied, smiling a little smugly, "It also doesn't make sense that he would risk stirring up so many tribes in this region."

"Sounds like someone who wants to die to me. If we weren't here, it'd only be a matter of time before all the tribes in the Well hunted down this _Katalmach._ And then his crusade would be over."

"Commander!" the shout rang out across the camp, "Scout returning!"

A lanky ranger bearing a long bow came sprinting into the center o the camp.

"Pathfinder Willem reporting, sir. I found the emissaries escorts – or what was left of them – but no sign of the emissary. They must have taken him."

"Well then..."

"Farishta," Adahni said.

"Well then, Farishta, you've got our work cut out for you. They probably took him to one of their lairs. Bonegnashers seem to have the upper hand these days, start by checking their lair, just to the northeast."

"All right, kids," Adahni said, "You heard the man. Let's go slay some orcs."

The four companions – Qara had gone to sulk in a tent and would not be roused, set off into the dusty mountains. The first chills of winter had begun to spread across the land and Adahni was grateful for the warmth of her cloak, as her chainmail got awfully chilly against her skin, the cold soaking right through her undershirt and into her bones. The sun was bright, but brought no warmth at all, and the companions traveled in a tight band to shield each other from the wind. Adahni found herself growing used to the smells of her allies, to Elanee's smell of bracken, the stale beer that emanated from Khelgar's pores even when he had not drunk for days, and the slight brimstone odor that accompanied Neeshka. She imagined she, too, had a smell, probably of all the nastiness of the Mere. It was too cold to bathe, and there was no water to do so even if it had been warmer. On the day's journey into the mountains, they kept themselves tolerable by lighting bundles of dry sage on fire and letting the smoldering smoke against their skin.

The orcs were cunning foes. While individual, she imagined that none of them were too bright, when they banded together they were formidable. She had stocked enough potions to keep them alive, but they found themselves spending more time recuperating from their wounds than fighting their way toward the mountain wherein lay the Bonegnashers' lair. They had acquired a tent from the supplier at the camp, and the four of them got very comfortable with each other, simply for the heat of their bodies, and the comfort of sleeping next to another breathing creature that was not out to kill them. Adahni did her best to keep their spirits up. Brawling songs when it was time for brawling, lullabies when it was time for sleeping, happy song s when it was time to roll off of their pallets and continue the journey.

_"This old man, he killed one_

_With a thump on the head and an old dart gun_

_With a knick knack paddy whack give a dog a bone_

_Send those stupid bastards home..."_

With 'home,' Adahni struck home and removed the unfortunate orc from her blade with a vicious kick. Khelgar, who had heard such songs, took on the next verse, merrily striking about with his axe.

_"This old man, he killed two_

_Slapped their faces and ran 'em through_

_With a knick knack paddy whack give a dog a bone_

_Send those stupid bastards home."_

Nearing their goal, the song continued, even Elanee joining in. The deaths the 'stupid bastards' died grew more and more gruesome as avoiding repetition necessitated some grim imagination.

_This old man, he killed forty-four_

_Smashed their heads right in the door_

_With a knick knack paddy whack give a dog a bone_

_Send those stupid bastards home."_

Adahni let the final note die off as she leaned with all her weight on the throat of one of the orc guards patrolling the area right outside of a large cave mouth. The poor bugger struggled, and she took pity on him and stabbed him in the heart. "Well, children, it looks as though we've found our lair. Anybody want to turn back?"

Neeshka raised her hand gingerly, but was rebuffed by Khelgar.

"The orcs inside aren't going to be any different than the forty-four we just slew," Adahni said, "Come on, now, into the fray!"

She was wrong on that count. The orcs inside were bigger, smellier, and harder to kill, and some of them packed quite a wallop when they set their undersized minds to it. They reached deep into the mountains, letting loose a horde of miners who had unfortunately been imprisoned there. Adahni had been hoping for some help, but she got none, and it was nearly an hour later when they arrived, bruised and bleeding, in the throne room of Yaisog Bonegnasher himself.

"Impressive," the orc rumbled, "Even as prepared for an attack as we were, you still were able to fight your way here."

"Damn straight we were!" Neeshka said, jutting out her chin.

"Before I kill you, tell me – why have you invaded my clanhold?"

"I'm here for the bastard you captured," Adahni said.

"So the human is of more value than I was told. I must inform Logram of this. As for you... let us see how you do against the best of my clan." The cowardly leader took off down, deeper into the mountain.

"That was the best?" Khelgar scoffed two minutes later, as he wiped the blood from his axe, "I hope he's in there soiling himself. I would be. If I weren't an Ironfist that is. We Ironfists do not soil our pants when in trouble."

"Nice to know," Adahni said, "Come on, let's see what we can do about this." They chased him through passages, growing increasingly narrow and winding, until they found him, flanked by more guards.

"Why do you continue to hound me? I am Yaisog! I cannot die!"

"Wanna bet?" Adahni shouted, drawing her blade again. Khelgar rushed into the fray, slaying both of his guards like it was nothing. He raised his axe to relieve the orc leader of his head.

"No! Spare me!" the chieftain pleaded, "My tribe still needs me."

"All right, then," Adahni said, "So answer my questions."

"Years ago, in my youth, I would have embraced death. There is no higher glory than to die in battle. But times have grown more desperate. The humans grow strong and send their men to slaughter our warriors. It has fallen to we elders to train our warriors teach them of our ways."

"Us elders," Adahni said.

"What?" the orc said, confused.

"You said 'we elders.' It's us elders. It's fallen to us, not to we. I should run you through just for that."

"Bards," sighed Khelgar, "Always harping about grammar. Can't you see the man – orc – is in the middle of meaningful soliloquy? Don't you think you ought to let him finish?"

"Fine," Adahni said, "But one more grammatical error and he's done."

"Should I fall, that knowledge will be lost forever."

"Is that it?" Adahni asked.

"Yeah, that was it," the orc replied.

"Where is the Waterdeep emissary?" she asked.

"He is here. I should have known our attack would not go unanswered."

"Got that right," Neeshka said.

"So he's not dead," Elanee observed.

"Chief Logram has given my clan the privilege of guarding the human until his forces arrive to bring him back to his stronghold. I know only that this human was to be turned over to the other humans from the north – the ones from the pirate city – Luskan."

At the mention of Luskan, Adahni felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, "Where's Logram?"

"His lair is kept hidden, even from his warlords. I only know that his men always travel deep into the mountains to the southeast, when they return from their raids."

"Fine," Adahni said, "You've managed to answer my questions without any further butchering of the Common tongue. You may go."

The poor chieftain took off down the corridor. They walked to the end of the passage where a rather sleazy looking individual was standing in front of a large chest.

"Who are you?" Adahni demanded.

"I don't know you. Who sent you? Are you here to kill me?"

"Maybe," Adahni said, "You'll know once you tell us who you are."

"Issani. My name is Issani."

Adahni looked at him, a little skeptical. "The emissary?"

"Ah, then I can trust you. I am Issani, emissary from Waterdeep. I must thank Lord Nasher for sending a rescue party so quickly."

"This doesn't look like much of a prison to me," Adahni said, observing the lack of, well, any of the features that a normal prison has. Guards. Keys. Doors. Anything.

"I believe the warlord of this lair wished to keep me close so that he could watch me... and this was the only room available. Don't let the surroundings fool you. The orcs clearly intended to harm me. I am fortunate you arrived when you did. But... what are you doing here?"

"We're going to Neverwinter," she announced, "Come on."

"I assure you," the man said, "I am not entirely without resource. I will be fine on my own."

"I insist," Adahni said, a glint in her topaz eyes.

"I don't trust him," Neeshka said, "Just a feeling, of course."

"There's a simple way he can prove it," Adahni said, remembering what Brelaina had said to her at the start of the whole mess. "He can show us his credentials."

"Unfortunately, the orcs took them from me."

"Well then," Adahni lied, smiling slightly, "How about the name of our contact? I'm sure you were told whom you were to meet."

"Ah... yes. My contact from Neverwinter. Is he here with you?"

"You mean she," Adahni said. _Checkmate._

"I suppose you think you're terribly clever."

"Actually, I do," Adahni said, "And I think you're an idiot, and you're going to die like one."

And die he did, Neeshka's dagger still sticking out of his neck. The companions gathered their strength, and went once more, back out into the dusty hills. They picked their way carefully down the mountain.

* * *

They encountered a few bands of orcs, but nothing too scary, until they passed through a broad ravine, the sandy cliffs rising on either side, glowing golden in the sunset. A band of orcs blocked their way. Adahni did her usual routine, giving a raucous cry and rushing forward, blade drawn. As the final orc fell, Khelgar gave a yelp of triumph.

"Well, that was entertaining. Looks like we caught them by surprise for a change."

Adahni's eye was caught by movement up on one of the cliffs, and shuddered. Descending upon them was a second band. She raised her shield and braced for impact.

"Just like orcs, they don't know when to quit," Khelgar announced.

But the orcs were not after them. They were after the people standing directly below them in the ravine. In the fury of battle, Adahni caught a glimpse of a familiar face, but didn't remember from where. After the last orc tumbled to the ground, she examined their new companions carefully. Their leader was a man in his thirties dressed in a set of armor that put hers to shame. He had a woman by his side, with sandy hair and a very pale complexion. Adahni didn't really like the look of either of them.

"He's a paladin," Neeshka hissed, pointing at the leader, "Their auras always make my skin itch."

"The Sword Mountains are a dangerous place. More now than ever, with the orc tribes gathered under Logram's banner," he spoke. His voice was deep and rumbling as though belonging to a much older man. Adahni looked up at him defiantly.

"I had things under control," she stated petulantly.

"So I noticed," he replied, a slight smile playing bout his lips, "I thank you then for allowing us to take part in the battle."

_Don't patronize me, _she thought, but then reconsidered her tone.

"I am Casavir, and my men and I have been hunting this group of orcs for days."

"Ahh, so you're this _Katalmach._ And I thought I was the only one with a silly nickname!" Adahni announced, "Greetings, _Katalmach_, I'm _Kalach-cha_. This is all the men you have? Not much of a force."

She scanned them. They were all heartbreakingly young men and women carrying swords and spears like they had carried hoes and picks before. Two were dead, and one was wounded. She couldn't see anything but his legs, but he looked young. She felt a pang. The young would always die in battle while the old men stayed home and sent them there.

"These are many of the farmers and veterans of the Luskan War who have tried to make Old Owl Well their home – and have been denied by the orcs," Casavir said.

_Well, can you really blame the orcs? _Adahni thought, but put the thought from her mind, remembering who it was who paid her salary, "There are Greycloaks in the valley, they've been trying to get in touch with you."

"I am aware of that," Casavir said, sighing, "Be assured that my people and I fight against the orcs, if not on Neverwinter's behalf. Whatever your allegiance, if you intend to enter the stronghold of Logram, it is to the north. I can lead the way."

"And your troops?"

"We have lost some men, but I will assemble who I can and join you on the assault," the woman said. Adahni didn't like her tone either.

"No, Katriona," Casavir said, "We have already lost too many, and a massed attack on Logram will only cost us more – I will be going on alone."

"Casavir... sir... we kept you from this once, I think it's best if..." She looked imploringly up at her leader. She had fair features, plump cheeks and a very pale complexion.

"Please, it is important that you do as I ask. Take the wounded, and fall back to the Greycloak camp. Do what you can to help them and keep pressure on the orcs."

"So after all this time avoiding the Neverwinter forces, now you want me to stride right into their camp? Please, Cas, let me go with you. There is no need to keep doing this alone. I can help you," Katriona implored him. Adahni felt embarrassed for the woman.

"For the love of the Gods and all that is holy, enough of this tearful exchange!" Adahni bellowed. She was eager to slay Logram, if only to get back to the camp as soon as she could.

"You have your orders, Katriona."

"Elanee," Adahni said, "Can you go back with them? Care for the wounded and all that."

"If that is how I may best serve the cause," Elanee said, conceding to the odd request. She followed Katriona and the rest of the force, the wounded on their backs, down the mountain, towards the shimmering lights of the Greycloak camp.

"So you know who I am," Casavir, setting out on the trail. Adahni walked by his side, while Neeshka and Khelgar lagged behind, "But who are you?"

"My name is Adahni Farishta."

"That is an unusual name."

"My mother was a bit of a free spirit," Adahni said, wondering if that was even true.

"It is a lovely name and you should be proud to bear it," the paladin said. She looked at him oddly. She wasn't sure if she really liked him, but felt a strong sense that she wanted to impress him. Hand on her sword, they climbed higher and deeper, into the very heart of the Sword Mountains.


	15. Kindness in a Dark Place

_Last year, the Luskan-Neverwinter Border_

* * *

Adahni ran like a pack of demons was at her back. She ran blindly out of the Luskan city gate, into the wilds beyond. She ran until she walked and walked until she fell, and slept until she woke up to walk again. This cycle repeated three or four times during which she saw the sun twice and the moon once, until she found herself at a farmhouse. The farmhouse gave way to fields, but over them, she saw smoke rising into the sky, which she headed for. It was a village, a little bigger than Westharbor, but not by much. She couldn't tell by the people whether she was in Luskan territory or Neverwinter, but by that point she really didn't care anymore. She dragged herself into the village center and asked through her swollen lips where she was. As soon as people saw her, they grabbed their children, not wanting them to see the battered girl wearing nothing but petticoats and a half-trussed corset, and headed indoors, or back to their tasks. She stood there, looking around desperately for a kindly face, when she realized that her sight was not what it should be. She had wiped the blood from her eyes, but felt one swollen and massive, such that she could not open it. Her other eye wasn't as bad, but her vision was blurred.

"Are you all right, lass?" someone asked her. She looked at him, but even in the light of day she could only discern that he was male, a bit taller than she was, and probably about her age.

"Do I look all right?" she asked, "I'm sorry... that was rude. I am obviously in need of help, I can pay... I promise I can pay, I just need somewhere to sleep for a couple of days until my vision comes back and maybe some clothes that aren't covered in blood and..."

"Come on then," the young man said, "My sister just got married and my mum's been missing having a girl to spoil. We'll get you cleaned up and you can tell us who you are and what in the hells happened to you when you've had a bath. My name's Jem Quarely, by the way"

"Addie Farlong," she said. She couldn't see that he had offered her a hand to shake, but he took hers, and shook it, and led her back to what she imagined was a farmhouse. It smelled of bread and oats, which made her mouth water. She could not count the days it had been since she'd last eaten. She heard a gasp, probably a woman's, as she walked in. A stout matronly type turned away from the cookfire, and ran up to her, pulling a chair under her.

"What in the hells happened to you miss?" she asked.

"Her name's Addie, I found her wandering the town square, asking where she was," Jem said, "I don't know where she's been, but it looks like she's been running all night."

"I have," Adahni replied, "Please, I promise I will pay you back, I just need somewhere to rest and a bath. I can't see too well right now..."

Mrs. Quarely was, as Jem had pointed out, in search of someone to take care of. In half an hour, Adahni found herself scrubbed, her wounds re-bandaged, and a potion applied to her eye that made the swelling go down, enabling her to see better. She saw Mrs. Quarely had a crown of blond hair that she had braided and twisted about her head and a kind, broad face that had probably once been beautiful. Jem was as she had imagined him, tall and gangly, with a sweet smile. He had two brothers, both of whom looked like smaller, younger versions of him. They followed him shyly, watching as the very odd stranger lay down in what had been their sister's room.

"In case you were still wondering, the answer is Barnslow," he said, as he closed the door, "You're in Barnslow."

She sighed as she closed her eye. Barnslow, Kyla's home. It was on the Neverwinter side of the border. She was home.

She stayed in Barnslow for four days. Some of her bruises healed, but her eye remained swollen and Mrs. Quarely had despaired of anything to repair it. She felt a better. She was handy around the house when it looked like Mrs. Quarely needed a hand, and had charmed the younger two boys with stories and ballads she had invented, mostly about the dashing deeds of knights and ladies, but after their mother was gone she'd throw in a bawdy one or two. While the Quarelys were jovial and kind, the rest of the village seemed distant and cold. When she was sent to market, every conversation she walked into stopped abruptly, and everyone stared at her. Though dressed modestly, they still treated her as a pariah, an untouchable. Between her treatment outside the house and the growing feelings she was experiencing for her savior, she knew it was probably time for her to move on.

The second night, as she awkwardly chewed her dinner after thanking Mrs. Quarely profusely for the third time, Jem finally asked her, "So what happened to you?"

"I've just left my husband," she lied. Well, it wasn't entirely a lie.

"Because he beat you?"

She nodded.

"You're very brave," Jem said. Adahni felt her face blush red.

"You ought to find a nice boy to marry instead," Mrs. Quarely said, smiling, "Like my Jem here. He'd never get caught raising his hand to a woman!"

Jem blushed, his pale cheeks going pink. "Mum, I have a girl."

"Yes he does," Mrs. Quarely agreed, "But Talia's a whore. Isn't she boys!"

Jem's two younger brothers, who were both in their teens, snickered, but nodded dutifully.

"You ought to find a nice girl like Addie here. She's just a victim of her circumstances, ain't you, Addie?"

"Yes ma'am," Adahni said, but she winked – did it still count as winking if your other eye was swollen shut? – at Jem. At this point, except for Kyla, this Jem had been kinder to her than any other.

Adahni announced that night that she was going to set out for her home in Westharbor the next morning. Mrs. Quarely protested, having taken a liking to the girl and appreciating the extra help it got her around the house, but conceded that if she hadn't seen her father in eight years, perhaps she ought to go – but to visit when she had the chance! She also managed to persuade her and the reluctant Jem to go out to the local inn, having gotten it into her head the Adahni was somehow superior to Jem's sweetheart and that she was doing her son a service by thrusting them together, black eye, failed marriage and all.

"So what's it like being married?" Jem asked. They were seated together at a table in the corner of the inn. Through her one eye, Addie could see that it was small, and a little smoky, but that there were no prostitutes. In fact, there were only two women there, the rest of the space being taken up by farmers and craftsmen, sipping their ales, some of them staring blatantly at her, wondering who she was and what she was doing in their bar.

"Overrated," Adahni replied, laughingly, "Obviously. It was my mistake though, I ran away with him when I was little more than a child, and I married him because I didn't know what else to do, and I left him because I couldn't take it anymore. I don't think I've made any of my own decisions in the past eight years."

"Yeah," Jem said, "I know what that's like."

"Do you now," she said.

"I love Talia," he said, "Make no mistake about that, it's just that… she wants to get married right away. She's older than me by a few years, and I think she wants to have babies."

"And what do you want?" Addie asked.

"I don't know what I want. I'm twenty-three for Tyr's sake and I've spent my whole life in this little town. I want adventures first," he sighed, pounding the table in frustration. He had drunk a few, and he didn't strike Adahni as a drinking man, so they were probably affecting him.

"Well I'm probably the wrong person to advise you on marriage," she said.

"Or maybe you're not," he said, gazing at her.

"What kind of adventures do you want?" she asked, "It's simple enough. Sign on to a ship, join the Neverwinter forces… do something."

"I don't know," he said, "It seems as though all the real heroes become heroes because of circumstances beyond their control, some kind of disaster. If I just wander away, abandon my mum and all, I'm just selfish."

"It's not always bad to be selfish," Adahni said. She drained her glass. She was feeling the ale a bit, "In fact it is probably more selfish to hope for a disaster to spur you into action. But listen, Jem, I'm going to have to be off early tomorrow morning, and I can't imagine your Talia would appreciate accidentally seeing us together and thinking the wrong thing. We should go home."

"I don't want to go home," Jem sighed, "Please, just a little longer?" He got up to get them another round, and when he returned, instead of sitting across from her, he sat down next to her on the bench. She had done a good job of telling herself that whatever she was feeling, it was just looking for someone new to cling to now that Dayven had failed her so miserably, and did not want to make the mistake of thinking a new man would help her problems. Her body, however, stood in stout opposition to this viewpoint, and she felt a shiver go up her side as he scooted over next to her, "You're a sweet girl, Addie, you didn't deserve all that." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. _Fuck it, _she thought. She turned to him and kissed him, only she leaned under and caught his mouth with hers. He was surprised, but didn't protest. He broke it off and smiled at her, his face pink.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking down at the table in embarrassment.

"Don't be," he said. His mouth was smiling and his eyes were merry, "I'm glad you stumbled into this village," he said. And then he leaned over, and kissed her again. This time, she kissed him back, ignoring the other men in the bar staring at them.

They spent the night together in the cheapest room in the inn – the basement - where his girl, Talia, would not come looking for them. He turned her on her stomach so he couldn't see her swollen face, but held her tightly and kissed the back of her neck. She was sweet to him, as sweet as she'd ever been, and he remembered her name at the moment when it mattered. She smiled as he drifted off in her arms. She remembered what it was like when she had made love to a man for the sake of making love, instead of for money or out of guilt or all sorts of other negative things. She would leave Barnslow in the morning, Jem would marry Talia, and the two of them would never see each other again. By the time she felt asleep, leaning her chin against his soft brown hair, she felt as though perhaps she could start again.

She awoke alone. The room was hotter than all the nine hells combined. The boy was gone from her arms, probably run home to his mother or his betrothed, but what concerned her more was the way in which the wooden walls were glowing red hot and the screams of the men and women trapped above her were carrying through. She rolled out of the way as a beam fell on the straw mattress that she had been sleeping in. The stairs were nearly collapsed. She was trapped, and there was no way out. Flames and cinders rained from the ceiling and she ducked out of the way. There was hope, though, in the form of the root cellar that connected to the basement. It had a dirt ceiling. All she would have to do is scurry into there and hide like a mouse until the building collapsed and she could climb out, or she ran out of air.

This she did, hiding her face in the cool earth. At first she thought that it was simply a cookfire getting overturned into a puddle of brandy, but as the fire raged on and the air grew hotter and thicker, her mind went wild with all sorts of fears. _The Luskans are starting another war! Or Dayven's come after me with the rest of his guild and is trying to smoke me out and take everyone else with them!_ She entertained herself with these far-fetched ideas until the air was too thin for her to take, and she passed out.

She came to when the inn was a pile of smoldering embers. She crept out of the root cellar and climbed gingerly up the pile of wood that had been the inn. Getting to the top, she looked around.

The whole village had been burnt to the ground. The shops, the houses. She saw with horror Mrs. Quarely and her younger sons, all blackened and burned, lying in the ruin of their house. She saw other corpses too, a middle aged man with three arrows in his back, a child that had had its throat slit. She stared in openmouthed horror as she made her way to the village limits. There was no use in staying there. Outside she saw the corpse of an assassin, lying face down in the mud with two arrows sticking out of him. Of course, she thought, she had forgotten about how a Luskan assassin earns his stripes. She spat on the corpse, gave it a kick, hoping that whoever it was in there was alive enough to feel her venom.

She heard voices in the wood, and ran away before she could see who it was. Casting about, getting her bearings, she found the road she was looking for. Bruised, battered, and burnt, but still alive, little Addie Farlong started out for home.


	16. From the Dead

The Eyegouger's lair, where Logram ruled, was poorly defended compared to the Bonegnasher's. It seemed as though the orcs relied on the nearby population of blade spiders to do their dirty work, a decision Adahni was sure they would regret. The giant arachnids were certainly frightening-looking, but had soft underbellies. By the time the moon was high in the sky, all of them were covered in slimy coats of ichor. Adahni and Neeshka went behind a rock to disrobe and scrub the stuff from them as best as they could with dry brush while Khelgar and the paladin found a nearby cave to pitch the tent.

"I will never complain about cold water again," Neeshka said, scraping her skin with a bunch of dried sage, "I will bathe in the river with ice still on the surface, just if I can get this crap off me!"

Adahni was having some better luck, getting the stuff of of her arms, hands and face. She was running a comb through her hair, trying to get it out of that. Her hair, though it fell to the middle of her back, she kept tied up while she was fighting, often tying a kerchief or headscarf to keep it from coming loose. Today, though, she had had to use the latest kerchief as an impromptu bandage for the paladin's arm and so she scraped the harden ichor from her hair, trying not to tear too much loose from her scalp.

She put her underclothes back on and made it back to the tent. The paladin was larger than Elanee, and as such took up quite a bit more room side to side.

"I'm not sleeping next to him," Neeshka announced, "He makes me itch." She curled up on one end of the tent, Khelgar beside her, and so Adahni lay herself down in the only place left.

Adahni sighed, and spent the night awake, between Khelgar, who snored and thrashed about, talking to himself, and the Paladin, who slept the serene sleep of the extremely religious. Neeshka took the first watch, and Adahni followed, sitting the cold dark, smoking the last of her pipeweed stash and watching stars move over the mountain. She thought about Casavir's force, the young men and women of Old Owl Well. In a way, she thought, they were interlopers in that land. It was the unquestionable nature of men to try to conquer the land when there were no enemies left to slay. She stubbed out her final smoke as the paladin left the tent to relieve her.

"It's cold," he said. He was wearing a tunic of cotton and short pants. He sat down next to her, pulling his cloak about him.

"Can't disagree with that," she said.

"How did you wind up in such strange company?" he asked.

"We sort of fell together," she said, "We've saved each other's skin more than once."

"They respect you," he said, "You must be something of a leader."

"The same could be said for you," she replied.

"You should try to get some sleep."

"I'm sorry, but spooning with the dwarf isn't exactly conducive to a good night's rest," she said, chuckling, "I'm afraid I will be a constant insomniac until we return to Neverwinter."

"Neverwinter?" asked Casavir, "So that is where you reside?"

"For the time being," she replied, "But you're right. I should try to close my eyes for a few hours. We've another fight ahead of us." She nodded to him, and went back into the tent. The spot between Neeshka and Khelgar was warm, and she lay her head down on her bag to cushion it. Within a few minutes, she was asleep.

They awoke early the next morning and packed up the tent and their bedrolls. They approached the lair, similar to the Bonegnasher's, with caution, slew the guards, and once more descended into the heart of the mountain. They swung their blades and the orcs fell before them. They went through different corridors, each narrower than the next, leaving a trail of bloodied corpses in their wake.

Deep in the lair, they came across several beings that were, certainly, not orcs. There were four or so men, standing there, deep in conversation.

"Our prisoner still refuses to talk," one said. He was bearded and robed, and looked quite official, "Prepare the rack. We shall have to employ more... primitive methods. Lorne will expect results."

"At once sir," the guard said. Adahni's stomach turned at the thought of it.

"Only then can he be turned. If he cannot be turned, then we will have to find Lorne another emissary to strike within Neverwinter's walls."

_Lorne? _It wasn't an uncommon name, but it still evoked images of the Starling boy. She sighed, thinking of poor Retta back in Westharbor, waiting for her son to return home.

The robed man turned around. "It seems we have intruders. Take them!"

They fought their way past them, until they had reached what seemed to be a dead end. There stood a tall orc, better dressed than the other.

"Neverwinter dares not send its grey whelps to face me in true battle. Instead they send assassins," he grumbled, staring daggers at the four companions.

Adahni took exception to this term.

"We are not assassins, Logram," Casavir said, his face calm, "You sent the tribes against the people of Neverwinter who dared settle here... so we are here to stop you."

"So, the katalmach, the one who has been attacking us, giving the grey whelps time to rest between each assault... why my men fear to face you in battle is hard to see. You die here now, katalmach, you and this one from Neverwinter who leads you. Are you ready to die, outsider?"

Adahni looked at Casavir for a cue. "It's over, Logram. Let your dogs leave, they don't need to die here, too."

"You wish to stand alone against me? You are no orc. I will not grant you the honor. Know that Yaisog has betrayed you. The coward warned me of you and has helped me prepare."

"Is anyone else surprised?" Neeshka groaned, "Thanks for letting him go, Addie, now it comes to bite us in the ass!"

"And why should we be more afraid of him than the hundreds of orcs we have slain already?" Adahni asked, "Kill him."

They left the orcs in an unceremonious pile. Adahni had spotted earlier an anteroom. The emissary must be in there.

He was not. She cast about in confusion. Where could he be? She ran through the caves again, looking for something, a door, another cavern where he could have been being kept. But nothing.

"This door leads deeper into the mountain," Khelgar said, examining a rusty iron door set into the wall in a corridor beyond the throne room, "I imagine we'll find our man somewhere in here."

They went through the door, and Adahni looked at what was there in horror. Tables lined the walls, covered in rotting corpses. The stench was unbearable, the distorted faces of the dead looked back at her.

"These corpses... I know these men and women. I served with them," Casavir said, his eyes wide.

"I don't know what this cave is, but maybe we should back away and move on," Neeshka said, her voice trembling.

"This looks like some kind of burial chamber," Khelgar said, "But... ugh."

"Some of these soldiers fell in battle against the orcs, but their bodies were never found. I do not know how they ended up here," Casavir said, his voice troubled.

Adahni gazed at the corpses, seeing her own face in theirs. "These bodies deserve funeral rights," she said, "Not to rot in a cave like this." She surprised herself that she had said that out loud. It was the sort of sentiment she usually kept to herself, for fear of appearing sentimental.

"They deserve that much at least," Casavir said, looking at her in approval and – could it be – respect? "I thank you for showing respect for those I stood with."

"No one deserves to be defiled like this. We'd better continue on."

"I don't like this," Neeshka protested, "I'm not above looking around... maybe robbing a corpse or two, but this place just feels wrong."

"I trust you," Adahni replied, "But I'd rather know."

They pressed on. There were more bodies scattered on the ground in the next chamber, and Adahni held her nose as they went by.

"Wait," Casavir said, "I think I heard something."

"What?" Neeshka said. She drew her dagger and turned.

The dead had risen, their bodies lurching towards them.

"Oh gods," Adahni said, "Not again."

The zombies were slow moving, but quick to fall. "If this isn't the work of one of those masked lunatics, I don't know what it is," Khelgar said.

"Then what's that?" Adahni asked. One corpse lay apart from the others in the middle of corridor. But it was moving, and with the natural movement of the living, not the jerky way of zombies. "I think she's alive!" She rushed up and stooped by the young woman.

"This place... someone is using t he dead for experimentation... defiling their bodies instead of allowing them to rest," Casavir said.

The woman started to jerk about, her head rolling wildly. Adahni backed off in fear, and saw, just as Khelgar had predicted, a masked shadow priest approaching in that creepy mask of theirs, flanked by two wizards.

"These people!" Casavir bellowed, "What have you done to them? You deny them their rest deny them their _peace!_"

"Peace?" the shadow priest sneered, "Surely you recall how they died, paladin. These mountains have been covered in blood since your arrival. After all, you led these dead into one glorious charge after another... I think what I have done is mercy in comparison. And I also shall grant them a chance at revenge, I think."

"You're disgusting," Adahni hissed, "This can't go on."

"Our leader speaks true," Casavir said, not taking his eyes off of the shadow priest, "You face us both. I do not know what power you worship, but I can sense the evil thick upon you. It has touched you, and it will soon run deeper than you know."

"Oh, paladin," the priest scoffed, "Shadows always run deeper than one knows... even deep in your heart, I think. But let's see, cut it open, and we'll see how dark it really is in there."

They were victorious, but Adahni was still entirely unsettled. They continued through the caves until they reached a small chamber chiseled into the mountain. Inside was a middle-aged man, standing next to a modest bed.

"And who are you?" he asked, "Are you my interrogator for the day?"

"Who are you?'

"What's the point of lying anymore? I am Issani, Emissary of Waterdeep. My entourage was waylaid by orcs. They brought me here, where I have been... questioned. Quite painful, but I refused to cooperate."

"And how do I know you're not lying?" Adahni asked.

"Proving my identity is simple enough. My captors were... thorough during their sessions."

"Why would there be two men pretending to be Issani?" asked Neeshka, "I have a good feeling about this one."

"All right. Let's go," Adahni said.

"Thank you," Issani said simply, "I'll see you back at the Well."

Adahni nodded, too tired to protest.

When they returned to the Greycloaks, Casavir went immediately to check on his wounded armsman, and Adahni followed him. She had grown rather fond of the avuncular knight and wanted to see how he would deal with his fallen companion. In the back of her mind, she thought that she might invite him with her back to Neverwinter. He, while clearly a strong leader, had had no trouble obeying her shouted commands, and did not hesitate even when it was obvious he would have done something else in the same situation. It seemed as though he respected her, for reasons not clear to her, but she would take what she could get and if he needed a hand at the bedside of a wounded soldier, she would gladly be there to help him out.

The poor boy was lying on a pallet alone. The other casualties seemed to mostly be up and about, and out of the tent, none so gravely wounded as he. He was about her age, maybe a little older, and gray in the face as though the blood had run completely out of him. There was a spear still sticking out from the right side of his chest, though the haft had been sawn off. She did what she thought she ought to, and put another pillow under his head. He coughed as she gently slipped it under and opened his eyes to look up at her. She froze.

"Addie?" he croaked, "What... what are you doing here?"

"Jem Quarely," she said, not sure whether to smile or be sombre or what, "I had always hoped to run into you again, in better circumstances that these unfortunately."

"You know each other?" the paladin said. He had shooed the two priests out of the room and was tearing a cloth into shreds, probably getting ready to pull the spear from the boy's chest, and preparing for the gush of blood that would follow.

"I was in a bit of a tight spot a little over a year ago," she told him, "I showed up in the village of Barnslow looking like death itself and Quarely here was the only one who offered to take me in. He and his mother cleaned me up, let me stay there a day or two, and would have sent me on my way if the Luskans hadn't burnt the village down the third night I was there. I thought, Jem..." she said, addressing the wounded soldier again, "I thought you'd perished that night."

"We'll speak of this when I've recovered," said Jem. He looked pointedly at his commander, "Which I fully expect to do."

"I do as well," Casavir rumbled, smiling kindly at the younger man, "I know a thing or two of war wounds, and I expect my lady knows a thing or two as well."

"I've taken worse than this three times a day, Quarely," she joked, patting the boy's other shoulder. She was a little taken about at being addressed as "my lady" but if the paladin wished to call her that, then that's what he would call her. She ripped the sleeve off her shirt (it was in tatters anyway and she was about to replace it) and rolled it into a wad. "Put that in your mouth then, we can't have you screaming and scaring all the others." Obligingly, Jem opened his mouth and she thrust the cloth between his teeth. She took the cloths that Casavir had been tearing up and bundled them together. She nodded to him as he took hold of the great orc spear with both hands. He gave it a great tug, and it came loose. Jem bit on the cloth in his mouth, and she saw tears squeeze out of the corners of his eyes as she put the cloth to the wound and pushed down with all her weight. Casavir was mumbling prayers, and the blood flow lessened a bit, but her bundle was soon soaked red.

"Give me a song," she said.

"A what?" the Paladin asked.

"A song," she said, replacing the cloths and holding them down, "I was once a bard, I could stop the bleeding, I just am terrible at thinking in a tight spot."

She stared as the red blood bloomed over the clean white cloth. The boy coughed, a pathetic sound. She doubled her weight on the cloths.

"I fear we're going to lose him," the Paladin sighed, bowing his head.

"No!" she cried. Adahni leaned down, held her hot face against Jem's alarmingly cold one. She had thought of him, often, during the year she had spent in West Harbor. She really had only known him four or so days, but they had spent some time together, which she blushed to think of. She had thought him dead in the fires, or by the hand of an assassin, and had mourned him accordingly, as anyone would mourn a man who had done them a kindness. He had been dead to her for over a year, but now that she had seen him, if only for a moment, alive, the prospect of him actually dying wrenched her insides something awful. "Come on, Jem," she pleaded, "You saved my ass, let me save yours." She shook her head, remembering all the songs she had sung for sailors in Luskan, the naughty, bawdy songs that she really didn't think the paladin ought to hear. She leaned in close to Jem's ear, and sang sad song. She poured all the magic she could feel into it, thinking of the skin closing over the bleeding hole in his chest.

_As I roved out one fine spring morning_

_To view the meadows and the flowers gay_

_Who should I spy but my own true lover_

_As she sat under the willow tree_

_I took off my hat and I did salute her_

_I did salute her most courageously_

_As she turned around, the tears fell from her_

_Saying false young man, you've deluded me_

_And a diamond ring, behold, I gave to you_

_A diamond ring to wear on your right hand_

_But the vows you've made, love, you've went a broken_

_And you wed the lassie who has the land_

_If I married the lassie who has the land, my love_

_It's that I'll rue until the day I die_

_When misfortune calls sure no man can shut it_

_It was my fault, I'll not deny_

_For tonight when I go to my bed to slumber_

_Thoughts of my love will be in my mind_

_When I turn around to embrace my darling_

_Instead of gold, sure it's brass I find_

The blood flowed slower. Some color had returned to the boy's face, and he opened his eyes again, startlingly blue against his pale forehead. "That fucking hurt," he announced.

The Paladin offered a small prayer of thanks to Tyr and Adahni sat back on her heels, sighing in relief and brushing the sweat from her brow. She had never tried to concentrate quite so hard on a song. Coaxing the boy's skin to knit back together had taken a lot of out of her, and he wasn't even fully healed. He was still bleeding, but the flow was slowing and the blood seemed to be forming a clot in the wound. The boy would live. Adahni looked down at her hands, which were red with blood, and wiped them on her breeches.

"Get some sleep," Adahni said, "Maybe one of the priests can patch you up more... and why exactly were they not in here for this?"

"It still fucking hurts," the boy objected.

"Here, drink this," Adahni handed him a flask of strong northern whiskey, which he gulped down. Within a few minutes he had closed his eyes.

"The priests?" Casavir said softly, raising his eyebrows, "I believe Callum is still angry with me and has instructed them not to treat my men until I arrived."

"More likely die of infection before the week was out," Adahni snorted, "I don't see how he could reconcile that with his belief in order and good and whatever else it is Neverwinter is supposed to stand for. What if you hadn't returned? They'd let the boy die?"

"The world does not often make sense, my lady," the paladin said. He put his hand on her shoulder, which sent shivers up her spine, for reasons she didn't really get. She shuddered involuntarily.

"That's the truth," she said. She took his proffered arm and rose to her feet, "By rights I ought to have died three or four times by now, but here I am, conversing with you."

They exited the infirmary tent, allowing the priests back in there. "What happened to you, that you ran into Barnslow town looking like death itself?" Casavir asked, "If I may ask, of course."

"I don't like to speak about that time in my life," Adahni said. She had spent some time thinking exactly what she was going to tell him. Khelgar and Neeshka never asked her any questions that were too personal, they assumed, naturally she imagined, that she had just grown up in Westharbor and never left it. Elanee never asked anything at all, and Qara didn't really seem to care. But the paladin seemed to always want to know more, and so she had concocted a version of the truth that she thought he would find palatable, "But I think you deserve to know a bit about the woman you'll be following. I was once married, to a lout of a man. He beat me, frequently, and hard, and his lifestyle got me into a lot of trouble. I decided that I had had enough, and I left him without any plan for getting home, which is how I wound up in Barnslow center with two black eyes and a split down my lip."

"And your husband?"

She shrugged in a way she hoped indicated to him that the conversation was very much over.

She felt a little guilty, leaving out so many parts of the truth like that, but doubted he wanted to hear the gory details. She assuaged herself that each individual thing she had said rang true. Yes, he married me, so that I would be responsible for his debts. Yes, he beat me and raped me and used me. And the bits she left unspoken, most significantly of which was that they probably technically were still married.

"Are you married?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Never," Casavir said, chuckling, "I have not had the privilege."

"Not much of a privilege," Adahni said, her face somber.

"I can understand why you'd think that," he said, his face grave again, "You must have been very young when you married him."

"Yes," she said, "Younger when we... nevermind."

"No, go on."

"I'd really rather not," she said, "I've only just met you, and to tell you the truth, I haven't spoken of this with anybody."

Casavir nodded, smiling slightly, "I hope there will be a time when you feel comfortable enough with me to tell me."

"I hope so as well."


	17. The Tale Jem Quarely Told

Adahni awoke early on a thin mattress in a large tent at the Greycloak camp, pleased to have four feet width-wise all to herself. She pumped herself a basin full of cold, clean water, and washed, scrubbing the dust and grime from her body and hair. In her underclothes, she went through her pack. No need for armor yet; they would not be journeying that day, nor the next, for Casavir had requested that he have a few days to make his rounds of the farmhouses, visiting widows, widowers, parents, and children of those who had fallen under his command. Adahni granted this willingly. She wanted a few days of rest, maybe some time to write songs and carouse around the campfires, and to visit with Jem.

She laced up her corset. It was designed to create a narrower waist for fine ladies, but it did a good job of keeping her stable, so to speak, if she laced it loosely. A year or so ago, she imagined, she could have gone entirely without underclothes, skinny as she was. But as she had gained weight back, her bosom seemed to grow at an even greater rate – inconvenient for fighting to say the least – and began to require what Mrs. Starling had always referred to as "support." She tugged on a pair of soft woolen breeches and tunic over the corset, for the chill in the air had increased fivefold since they had first arrived.

She caught up with Jem the next day. He was taking a turn around the camp, still wet from having bathed. Evidently, Casavir had had a stern chat with Callum, and the priests had patched the boy up. He grinned when he saw her, a sweet and pure smile that made him look like just a boy instead of a hardened veteran. "I had thought I'd imagined you," he said, "I've heard that loss of blood will make a man hallucinate. For a moment I thought I had died and that you were there you guide me to the next life."

"Me?" she giggled, "I'd be a poor psychopomp. I can barely find my way in and out of the caves in these hills. I fear when I die I'll wander the mountains for all eternity."

"There are worse things to do," Jem said, "I would be happy to wander these hills until the world ends."

"Is that what you're doing now?"

"I was going to walk up into the mountains. Now that the orcs have been taken care of there are so many places to investigate, nooks to stick my nose into. Want to come?"

"Are you well enough to hike?"

"For sure and certain," Jem replied, "See?" He pulled his tunic aside. The gaping wound was little more than a white scar. What caught Adahni's attention though were the burn scars that covered his shoulder and back. She started in horror, but Jem didn't notice, thank the gods. He offered her an arm, which she took, and the two of them went out of the camp to ramble in the heath-covered highlands that surrounded it. At first, they kept to the track, but soon wandered off it. They climbed rocks and trees like children, each trying to get higher than the other until the sun was high in the sky, and then began to sink again. They didn't talk, just climbed, until the sun was nearly down.

"So are you a full-time rambler now?" Adahni asked, scrabbling for handholds in the face of a particularly ornery cliff.

"I wish," Jem snorted. He was already up at the top of the rock face, gazing out at the horizon, "I took up the weaving trade shortly after you left. Sort of had to." His face appeared next to hers as he hung upside down from the cliff, "I do my rambling when I can." He sat back up, turned around, and leapt off, landing on his feet. Adahni sighed in frustration and let go of the cliff, dropping beside him.

"I'm sorry," Adahni said, "About your home."

Jem looked away, "I am too," he said, "My mother and brothers were good people, they didn't deserve to die like that."

"You're being very objective for a man who lost his whole family," Adahni commented, "But you're right, your family did me a kindness when nobody else would."

"Barnslow was a hard village. The borders shifted so many times during my childhood, so many young men and women died fending off the military from both the Luskan and Neverwinter side that there wasn't much kindness left by the time you arrived there," Jem said, "Or at any time, I suppose. It wasn't the best place to grow up in."

"I knew a girl from there," Adahni said, thinking of Kyla, "She always spoke of it fondly. She was the reason I went there. I knew it was on the right side of the border."

"She had the good sense to get out," Jem sighed, shaking his head, "I've grieved for my family, but I can't say the rest of the village didn't deserve it."

Adahni looked at him in shock, "You really oughtn't say such a thing."

"I suppose I shouldn't," Jem agreed, "Come on, I see a meadow down there. We can light a fire. It's getting chilly."

It was Adahni's opinion that, if it were getting that chilly, they really ought to go back to the camp, but Jem had other ideas. He bounded down the hillside, and by the time Adahni arrived in a field of heather, he had already pulled some brush and dry branches and lit a little campfire. She down beside him, suddenly feeling awkward as a girl ten years younger might in the presence of her first love.

"Is your back cold?" he asked.

She nodded. He put his arm around her. He smelled familiar, of woodsmoke and autumn leaves. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he turned and kissed her on the forehead. "I'm glad you're not dead," he said.

"Well if that's not the compliment of the century, I don't know what is," she chuckled, "So tell me the truth, Jem, did you even remember me before Casavir called me by my name?"

"Of course I did," Jem said, "You were the second girl I ever slept with and it was the only time I've ever done something wrong. Thinking you dead sure as the hells set me on a straight and narrow path of morality. First time I ever did anything bad and my whole village burns down that very night."

"So now you're a paragon of righteousness?" Adahni said.

"More like despair, and then sad acceptance," Jem said, "But the paladin - Casavir - he managed to snap me out of it a bit. And now here you are, as alive as they come... Did you ever think about me?"

"Some," she said, "I arrived home the next day, and the whole debaucle that was my escape was quickly forgotten. I grieved for you and your family, but if anything the burning of Barnslow also set me straight on the narrow path I walk now."

"You wound me, Addie," Jem said, raising a hand to his heart, "Was I really that bad in bed?"

At this she laughed. This was a different man than the one she'd known. It was only a year ago that he'd been sweet and kind, and now here he was, bitter as a potion of barkskin.

"No," she replied, "I'm sorry I made such an impression on you, I assure you I intended to be quickly forgotten."

"You picked a lousy night."

"I know."

"But if I hadn't lain with you, I'd be dead now as well," he said.

"My nethers have been known to bring good luck," she said, giggling. She dared not make such joke in front of her companions, as such things only sickened Khelgar and encouraged Neeshka. She lay back on the heather and looked up at the sky, which was a brilliant shade of blue as the sun blazed its final fire over the mountains hills to the west, "In all seriousness, though, we were drunk. It's best not to think too much on it."

"You were the first adventure I took," Jem said, "I never did anything like that before. And now here I am, slaying orcs and all that. And I thank you for it." He leaned over her and kissed her on the mouth this time, the sun behind his head turning his curly brown hair into a black and thorned crown. She twined her arms about his neck and kissed him back. She felt him shiver against her and pulled away.

"Cold?" she asked breathlessly. He shook his head, grinning, and stripped off his tunic. In the dying sunlight she saw that his entire back was a mass of twisted scars. She shuddered involuntarily, imagining the pain that those wounds must have given him. Afraid to touch him, she gingerly pulled him back to her by the back of his head, kissing him deeply. She rolled him over, his back on the heather, and let him pull her shirt over her head. She started on her laces, fumbling with them. He took over, pulling the laces from her corset and exposing her to the elements.

"You've a scar," he said, sliding his hand down between her breasts where a dark, knotty brown scar obscured her skin, "I never noticed that."

"You were drunk," she replied.

"I've been wondering what you'd be like if I were sober," he replied. His fingers lingered there. She unbuttoned her trousers and wriggled out of them.

"I hope I make as good an impression as the first time," she replied. She reached down to unlace his breeches. She leaned against him and eased him into her. He moaned a little. She leaned down and pressed her chest to his, letting his hands linger on her bottom, pressing himself further into her. The warmth of it did little the ease the chill in the air, but her focus had shifted. She had been too drunk to remember the boy in Highcliff, and now she felt some pleasure as they moved together in the wan twilight.

"Addie..." he sighed, "Addie I've missed you..."

"You don't know me," she insisted, her breath coming in ragged sobs.

She felt her body seize as he bucked under her, moaning softly. She rolled off him again and seized her trousers, pulling them back on and throwing her cloak about the both of them against the cold. The fire was dying, but Jem rose and fed it with some more dry sagebrush.

"Why'd we go and do a thing like that, Jem?" she asked, laughing.

"You're a lovely woman and I'm not too bad looking myself," he said, "I thought it was nature."

"I suppose," she replied, "I can't imagine your captain would approve."

"No, I don't imagine he would," Jem replied, leaning back again and kissing her mouth.

"What... what happened in Barnslow that made you say those things about it?"

"Now why'd you have to ask a question like that?" he asked, the smile fading from his features, "Dredge up the past like that."

"I think we just dredged up the past," Adahni replied, "Please, for my own knowledge."

"All right," Jem replied reluctantly, "Well, the place in general was… you saw. But there was one thing in particular. You see, there was a dark story in our town about a family whose name I won't mention out of respect and pity. The mother married young and gave birth four or five months afterwards, to a girl. She was a woman grown by the time I was old enough to notice girls, and I assure you, she was noticed. She wasn't a slut like her mother, at least not when she was younger. But then they both disappeared for a few months, and when they came back, there was a baby boy with them, saying that the mother had had to go to find a particular healer in a particular town because of something wrong with the baby, and that her daughter was accompanying her. The mother was in her thirties at that point, and the girl was only fourteen, but you can guess that tongues were wagging.

"The girl changed with the birth of her brother. She was always a good, sweet child, despite her father beating her and worse day in and day out. She started taking whatever boys or men who'd take her to bed with her, trying to find one that would take her away. My older brother went with her to a haystack one night and she'd begged him for it, but he refused, saying that he'd feel bad about it. Then she asked if he'd take her away from there. He felt bad for her, he really did, and just held her until the morning when she had to go home or her father would beat her.

"When I was twelve, a couple of years older than the boy, the mother hung herself in the barn. Her husband had gone out of town and returned to bury her, but when he did, the girl - wasn't much of a girl by this time, she was well into her twenties - was gone and had taken the boy with her."

"Do you think -"

"She told her mother that her own father had gotten her pregnant, against her will? Yes, that's what I think happened. And we all knew it. We all saw that the boy was the spit and image of the father. We gossiped about it and watched them in horror, but nobody... nobody said a damn thing _to _them, nobody punished him for what he'd done. I've fought hard, been sore wounded by orcs, but I will take that over the cruelty of men any day."

"As would I," Adahni said, "Cruelty outshines kindness every single time."

"I know," he said, "And here I am, waxing philosophical after rolling in the heather with a woman I thought a year dead. And now here you are, nearly right where I left you." He fell silent and looked up at the moonlight, and finally turned to her, his brow furrowed, "Addie... that night, the last night in Barnslow?"

"What about it?"

"I left before you woke up."

"I know."

"I went to tell Talia I wasn't going to marry her."

"And why would you do a thing like that?" Adahni said, shaking her head, "It wasn't me, I know that much."

"It was and it wasn't," Jem replied, "When you talked about the adventures you were going to have now that you were free of your husband, how you were going to scale all the mountains and fight dragons and sail all the seas... I couldn't see myself with a wife and children, anchored to the land."

"Good," said Adahni, "I was afraid for a moment that you were in love with me."

She was a little hurt when he burst out laughing at the thought, but supposed that she deserved it for saying such a silly thing.

"Well, if I might say so, you are quite a fighter."

"And a hell of a good lay, I hope."

"That too," he replied.

"Can't imagine your captain would be too happy about finding us here," Adahni said.

"Neither would my wife," he chuckled.

"So you did marry," Adahni said. She wasn't surprised, nor did she feel particularly betrayed by the statement. Having given Casavir her blunt assessment of the institution of marriage the other day, she wasn't about to do an about-face when it didn't suit her, "I'm sorry."

"Talia's was the only house standing after the fires. I was burnt, badly, trying to find my youngest brother," Jem sighed, he gestured to the mottled scars on his back, "Talia took me in, cleaned me up, and then told me she was with child. We couldn't very well stay in a farmhouse with no village to support the farm, so we came here, to Old Owl Well, and I set up my loom and she tended her crops until she was too pregnant to push a plow, and then she had the baby and now it's all over."

"I see."

"It's a funny thing," he said, "How two dark-eyed parents can have a blue-eyed baby, but you never see two blue-eyed parents have a dark-eyed child. So tell me, how myself and Talia could have made a swarthy thing with eyes black as coal?" he said, "And she wonders why I don't like holding him. Here I am with a six month old boy who looks nothing like me and a house and garden and loom. Why do you think I left her in the village to go slay orcs?"

_It certainly doesn't seem fair to the child. Ain't his fault his dad ain't you, _Adahni thought, but said, "Certainly not to take a tumble in the bracken with another soldier," she replied, "I suppose it's not really as bad as it sounds. Although now I'm certain your captain wouldn't approve. He seems very..."

"Proper?" he asked, "Yes, that he is, for sure and certain, but he's a good man. And I don't think he blames me. I saw his eyes following you ever since we got down from the mountain."

"No," Adahni said, giggling, thinking of the dark-haired knight, "He's coming with me, you know, when we leave for Neverwinter."

"He is and I'm not?" Jem asked. He was smiling, though, the skin around his eyes crinkling, "And you're going to send me back to my wife so I can realize just what it is I'm missing in life?"

"And what is it you're missing?"

"The wind in the pines, the silence of an autumn evening, a lusty dusky girl by my side," he sighed, "But I suppose we can't always get what we want. I'll be off to pretty blue-eyed Talia Voss and her dark-eyed son and pretend I don't know she slept with her sister's husband because she knew he wouldn't take precautions, and live out my life in quiet misery." He turned and looked at her through intensely blue eyes, "Looks like the adventure's over for ol' Jem, now that the orc problem's been solved. Twenty-four years old and it's all over already. Sure you can't take me with you?"

"Well, first of all," said Adahni, "Might I remind you that the night before Talia told you she was pregnant - and failed to tell you that you weren't the father I might add - you were cuddled in the basement of a sleazy inn with me. I can't see how her behavior is any better than yours." She was silent, thinking about it for a moment. "Though I suppose it isn't as though you're showing up at her house presenting her with my child. And you were going to break things off with her. All right, nevermind about that. But second of all, I hate to break it to you, but as fun as it's been, you're a lousy fighter. Didn't this whole thing start with me patching up wounds that a novice of the Westharbor militia would've been able to avoid?"

Jem only chuckled, "Fair enough, Addie, fair enough. Just... when you're some big knight in Lord Nasher's service, with a castle and all that, remember ol' Jem Quarely if you're looking for a retainer. You've saved my life, and sure and certain I owe you a good turn."

"I could use another good turn right now," Adahni said, drawing him closer, "If you're up to it."

"Oh, I'm up to it," he replied, chuckling. He leaned in to kiss her again. She wriggled out of her breeches again, tossing them to the side and lying back, pulling him down on top of her. Jem was the the first boy she'd slept with after leaving Luskan, and making love to him now recalled the sweetness of freedom that she had felt the first time they'd lain together. Her hands skittered over the ravaged skin of his back. It felt odd under her fingers, but she didn't fear it as she once would have. She felt his body shudder.

"Are you in pain?" she asked. The wound in his chest looked to have almost entirely healed.

"No," he sighed, leaning down and deeper into her, eliciting a small moan from her, "Is this all right?"

"It's wonderful," she replied, arching her back and wrapping her legs around him.

They kept each other very happy for another half an hour or so, his blue eyes staring into her topaz ones, her muffling her moans and squeals in his shoulder, him, burying his head in her chest to avoid being heard as he spasmed. He kissed her again, and lay his head underneath her chin and soon his breathing was deep and even. She let him sleep there until the moon went down and Adahni realized that being pantsless in the heather in the late autumn, even with a young man on top of her, was getting unbearably cold.

"It's freezing," she said, removing him gently from her and groping around for her trousers, "Don't you think we ought to head back to camp?"

He groaned, "As long as we're here, none of it exists. As long as we're here, anything could happen tomorrow," he sighed, "Please just a little while more." Still, he buttoned up his trousers and sat up, rubbing his hands briskly up and down his upper arms, "Say, I know it's probably the least romantic thing in the world, and... and... I know I probably should have asked you before, but... you've taken... erm... precautions right? Not that I wouldn't welcome into the world a child that was actually mine, but these aren't exactly the best circumstances..."

"I can't have children," Adahni said shortly, "I wouldn't be half so free if I could."

"Ah," he said, "That's a blessing now, I suppose."

"I'm not a mothering type," Adahni said, "So I suppose it's for the best."

"What happened, if I may ask?"

"You've spent the last two hours getting acquainted with that region of my body, so no fair being shy about it now," she said. It seemed that this was a night for telling secrets, and so it was a secret that she told, "I had a bad miscarriage when I was very young. I bled so much that the priest said I'd never be able to conceive."

He nodded, evidently not knowing what exactly to say to that. Of course, it wasn't as though she knew what to say to a married man she'd just slept with - twice - who was about to go home to a child that wasn't his own.

"Tell me again," he said, leaning his head into her lap and stretching out his legs, "Tell me again about what you're going to do."

"Hm?"

"That night in Barnslow, you spent half an hour telling me about all the adventures you were going to have now that you had left your husband. Tell me again about those."

"I've had some adventures," she said, "I've rambled through the Mere, slept on mountains and hills and haystacks, hacked apart my share of zombies. I've been a bard and a watchman and a slayer of orcs, I saved Highcliff and Fort Locke... say I have had adventures!" She smiled, pleased with herself, "Come on, love, there's no use postponing any further, we've got to get back." He opened his mouth to protest, but she shooed him off her lap. She got up, offering him a hand, and the two of them ran down the hill and back to the small camp. He kissed her once more before they got there, and then ran away back to the barracks where he stayed. Adahni sauntered over to the tent that she was sharing with her companions, including, apparently, the paladin who had been, up until that point, Jem's commander.

"So nice of you to join us," Neeshka said, almost sarcastically but not quite, "You done wandering the hills in search of spiritual fulfillment?"

Adahni laughed inwardly, but said, "Oh, I found fulfillment."

Neeshka squealed with laughter, drawing confused looks from their companions, but nobody said anything.

"I, too, find solace in nature," the paladin rumbled. At first, Adahni stared at him blankly, but quickly nodded her agreement. There was something in his demeanor that made her feel, well... not quite ashamed, just as though she would really like to impress him. It was a curious feeling, not one she'd ever had before. She, of course, had grown up craving her father's pride as much as any girl, but this was different. She felt a deep affection of all of her lovers, up to and including Jem Quarely, but had never really felt the need for their approval, not even Dayven. But all the way up and down the hills, in and out of orc burrows, she found herself fighting harder than she ever had before, putting herself in much more danger than she usually did, so that maybe the paladin would think her better than she actually was.

"I had the opportunity to speak with one of your men," Adahni said, choosing her words carefully, "The boy whose life you saved at the infirmary two days ago. Why are you returning with me instead of staying on to lead them?"

"Yes, I saw you and Quarely speaking to each other," Casavir said, "Terrible tragedy what happened to him."

"You mean his wife?" she asked incredulously, not imagining that the soldier would have told his captain about that, and then not believing that the paladin would react in such a manner.

"No..." Casavir said, looking at her oddly, "To Barnslow. He lost his parents and brothers all in one fell swoop. I'd never met a survivor before, but he seems relatively unscathed. He has a good life now, with his wife and son. I wouldn't want him, or the other civilians I had with me, to risk their families if their homes were not already at risk."

"Well spoken," Adahni agreed. Neeshka rolled her eyes.

"You should ask him to come with," Neeshka said, "He's hot."

"He's married," Casavir chided the tiefling, "And has a child."

"That kid ain't his," Neeshka scoffed.

"And how would you know that?" Adahni asked, staring at her in surprise.

"Sometimes I sneak around places," Neeshka said, shrugging her shoulders and focusing on the fingernails, which she was cleaning with a small stick, "Sometimes I hear things."

Adahni stared at the tiefling in horror and would have launched herself at her if the Paladin hadn't been there. Instead, she looked at the rogue sternly, "That was a _private_ conversation."

"Yeah," Neeshka said, "So you probably shouldn't have been doing it - I mean having it - your conversation I mean - in a place where anyone could just walk up and see - I mean, hear."

Adahni flushed red and lay down on her pallet, thoroughly mortified. There was a time in her life when she wouldn't have cared, but that time was long, long gone.

"I see I should not expect much privacy if I'm to be travelling with you," Casavir commented.

"Nope," Neeshka said cheerily, "In fact I've already been through all of your stuff. You really ought to wash your underclothes more often."

The Paladin blushed slightly, but turned to the dwarf, "Is she always like that?" he asked.

"No," Khelgar said, "At first I thought she was, and then I realized that she's actually trying to be obnoxious . She's fine once she's stopped purposely acting like a child." He glared at the tiefling.

"Well fine," Neeshka sniffed, "I can see where I'm not wanted. I'll go find someone else to annoy." She stalked out of the tent and into the night. Casavir excused himself shortly afterwards, saying he had to go have a chat with one of his men, leaving Adahni and Khelgar.

"She's upset about something," Adahni said, "That's for damned sure."

"I think it's the paladin," Khelgar said.

"You think she's got her skivvies in such a twist over an itchy aura?" Adahni said, raising her eyebrows.

"No. I think she's jealous," Khelgar replied.

Adahni looked at the dwarf, perplexed, "What do you mean?"

"Well, since we've been back at the Greycloak camp you've spent one day making the rounds with Cas, one day frolicking in the hills and gods know what else with that young man who served under him, and about an hour with her."

"And why would that bother her?"

"She likes you," Khelgar said mildly, "Admires you, somewhat. I think you've probably been kinder to her than most in her life."

"Than you, anyway," she said, "Since when did you have any great insight into the minds of tieflings?"

"I don't," Khelgar replied, "I'm just drunk."

"Oh," Adahni replied, and for the first time observed both the half-full bottle of amber whiskey and the empty one beside it.

"I miss her," he said.

"Neeshka?"

"No, stupid, _her._My Helvynn," he said, "The Hammerforge clan hall was once in these mountains, we used to wander these hills and valleys for days... I wonder where she is right now. She probably married some beardless lout her brothers picked out and has forgotten all about me."

"I doubt she'd forget you," Adahni said, "Hells, I've been trying to forget you since the day we met and see where that's gotten me."

Khelgar glared at her through red-rimmed eyes.

"That was a joke," she replied, "I'm sure she's going to turn up one day. We seem to be good at turning up old friends. In fact, I'll make you a promise, Ironfist. If she doesn't show up one day, once this whole mess is over, we will go tromping through the Sword mountains and we won't stop until we find her."

"You're a good friend," Khelgar said, sloppily slinging his arm around her shoulders, "You're a good person, and you deserve happiness."

She laughed, "You're deep into your cups, Ironfist. Get some sleep." She leaned over, blew out the lamp, and soon heard the dwarf's signature snoring. She rolled over on her pallet, her hands behind her head, and spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling of the tent.


	18. The Scourge of the Sea of Swords

_Six years ago, Luskan_

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night in Luskan, the lightning streaking from cloud to cloud and illuminating them like great sky-bound giants. She was upstairs, cleaning off her blouse after a drunk had spilled ale all over her front. She sat on the bed, gazing out on the water, reasoning that she could take a few minutes to watch the storm before going back to work the place. With a flash of lightning, she saw a ship she had not seen before. Most of the ships, from the distant city states to the south, flew the colors and coats of their home cities. This ship flew no colors, but in each burst of light she saw that the sails were pitch black, painted with grinning skulls. Pirates.

Since the deaths of the pirate lords of Luskan, precious few buccaneer ships took refuge in the ports there. In her four years there, it was the first that Adahni had seen anchored in the bay. She crept downstairs, hoping to sneak a peek at the swashbuckling pirates she was sure were carousing at the bar.

To her disappointment, there were no such people there, only the same sailors as always. She was walking over to the bar to pick up her mandolin when she felt a tug on her sleeve. She whirled to see a young boy holding out his empty tankard for her to fill.

"Sure, lad, and I'll be fillin' that up with warm milk and bringing it right back," she said, rolling her eyes.

The boy grabbed ahold of her collar and yanked her down so that they were at eye level. She saw, with some embarrassment, that it was not a young boy, but a grown halfling man. His dark blue eyes bored angrily into hers.

"I ain't nobody's lad," he growled, "Now fetch me an ale, wench, 'fore I slap you into next winter."

"Yes, sir, Master..."

"Cullygan. Captain Cullygan to you."

Adahni rose, giving him a half-mocking salute and smirking. Men tipped better when you flirted with them, the more stand-offish the better. Besides, if he decided to start anything, she could pick him up and chuck him out the window. Turning to the bar, she stopped cold, looking at the stunned faces of the patrons around her. Even Kyla stared at her fearfully, looking from Adahni to the halfling and back again. Kath hurried over and put her arm around Adahni's shoulders, hustling her into the kitchen.

"That's Mackrem Cullygan, the Scourge of the Sea of Swords!" Kath exclaimed in a fierce whisper, "Whatever he wants, you want to give it to him. Understand?"

"He's a pirate?"

"Aye, captain of the Dance of the Damned," Kath whispered.

"He's a pirate? The little one that'd come up to my chest?"

"Yes, and don't fuck with him. He was around here, four five years ago. He got into a fight with a rival pirate, a big half-orc he was. Decorated the bar room with his innards."

"He killed a half orc?"

"Are you going to keep questioning everything I say or are you going to go out there and give him his damned ale?"

Adahni sighed and nodded. Kath hurried her out back into the bar room. The barkeep handed her the tankard and she walked swiftly across the room to set it down in front of the diminutive buccaneer. She turned to go, but felt a tug on her sleeve again. This time, she turned, her head bowed.

"I like the cut of your jib," Cullygan stated, "You've a spirit and a tongue, two things I admire most in a woman. Sit down."

She obeyed, glancing at him. His eyes narrowed as he peered at her intently.

"Now don't be givin' me that look, lass. Believe me, I'm about as attracted to you as you are to me. Now if Kath would take my advice and employ a couple of halfing, or gnomish women, then we might have deal. But right now all I'm wantin' is a girl sittin' across from me, lookin' pretty and tellin' me if there's anyone as wants to sneak up behind ol' Cully's back."

"Yes sir," she said meekly, glancing over his head. She doubted that anyone would mess with him given the reputation that preceded him, but if it was a lookout he wanted, then it was a lookout he'd get.

"What's your name?

"Addie," she said.

"Addie's a common name," he said, "What's it short for?"

"Adahni, sir."

"Adahni, now there's a name you don't hear every day. Your father a sailor or sommat?"

"I wouldn't rightly know sir. His name was Farishta, that's the only name I ever heard of him going by."

"Raised by your ma then?"

"My mother died when I was a baby," she said, "I was raised by a friend of hers. In Westharbor... in the Mere."

"Aye, Westharbor," Cullygan said, "I'm a Neverwinter lad meself. I was raised in Leeves, a village not far from the old ruins of Crossroad Keep, you know where that is?"

"No sir," she replied.

"I took to the sea when I was a lad of thirty. Got the wanderlust, not a common affliction for those of my kind, but it got me good, and here I am. Now tell me, how does a sweet little thing from Westharbor wind up an ale wench in Luskan? Wait, don't tell me, I probably don't want to know."

"I assure you, you don't."

"You've a shadow hanging over you," he observed, peering intently at her face, "I can see those things, I can, and there's a shadow over your face like a veil over the face of a widow. Dark things are comin' in your future, Miss Addie."

"Must be a trick of the light," she said, "Only thing in my future is more of the same, at least until there's peace between Luskan and Neverwinter. I've been meaning to set out for home for months, but this war just keeps dragging on and on."

The movement caught her eye, a motion in the shadows in the corner behind Mackrem's back. She took a steak knife off the plate of the sailor sitting on her other side, instinctively hefting it in her hand.

"You're gonna want to stay pretty still there," she whispered.

The assassin swept out of the shadows in the space of three seconds, dagger gleaming in the lanternlight, dripping with what must have been poison. She moved quickly, standing, throwing her chair to the ground with a clatter and hurling the knife as hard as she could. It struck the assassin in the left shoulder, and he hissed, tearing it loose and chucking it over his shoulder where it landed, humming, in the wall. In a flash, the little pirate had turned around, whipping out a cutlass. He moved faster than she would have thought possible, pinning the assassin to the ground, one small boot on his throat.

"Yield or I'll cut you from nipple to navel and back again," the halfling growled.

The assassin, with agility that Adahni had never seen, kicked up and back and sent Cullygan pitching forward onto the floor. By this time, though, five of his crewmen, scarred and grizzly buccaneers of the very grittiest sort, had drawn swords and cutlasses and surrounding the cowled assassin before he could pounce on the captain.

"You're lucky pirates don't rule this town anymore," Cullygan announced, "Because I'm going to let you live. Just climb out that window there and tell your little mates back at the Circle of Blades that if they fuck with me again, I'll burn their building around them while they sleep."

The assassin, his face still hidden under his hood, leaped to the window with an odd sort of grace, dropped onto the cobbles outside, and disappeared into the night.

"What the fuck was that about?"

"I'll tell you that, Addie, but first I must first thank you for that lovely display of knifemanship and for saving ol' Cully's little hide," the captain said, seating himself in his chair and taking a swig of ale as though nothing had happened, "Since the pirate lords' downfall, the hosttower mages have taken over this lovely little city. Ain't the place it used to me, I can tell you that much. I'm the last of me kind, as it were, buccaneerin' ain't been the same on the Sword Coast since. Weasely little fuck by the name of Black Garius sees me as a threat, that I might bring back the glory days of piracy in Luskan. He pays the Circle of Blades, and that incompetent idiot you just skewered comes along looking to put a gash in me neck.

"But point is, Adahni, daughter of Farishta, that I owe you debt of honor. You'll always have a place on the Dance of the Damned should you ever need to make a hasty exit."

Saving a man's life, halfling, elf, or dwarf, had a way of endearing you to him. Mackrem kept Adahni up until dawn, teaching her songs, exchanging stories, and when the sun rose and he announced that the Dance of the Damned would be sailing for Port Llast before he made any more enemies, Adahni felt that she had a new friend. Whether she'd ever see him again, she didn't know, but she liked the little man, and anyway, he owed her.

Kyla was sleeping above the bar that night. Adahni had noticed that the girl often had night terrors, waking up and thrashing and screaming, and wanted to get a little sleep in peace. She went up to Dayven's flat to sleep away the morning. She found Dayven fast asleep on the little mattress he called a bed. The covers were in a snarl around him, and he was sweating, an odd thing for late fall. She felt his forehead; he was burning like a midsummer bonfire. She went through his shelves. There was an astonishing number of empty flasks there, with traces of a potion she didn't recognize. Only two of them were full. She unstoppered one and sniffed at it, repelled by the odor.

She went out back to the courtyard and drew a bucket of water, heaving it back up the stairs. She wiped the sweat from his brow with a cool cloth, and he moaned and squirmed. There were cuts on his right arm she saw as it lolled out from under the blankets, but each cut was razor-thin, and swollen around the edges. Beside the bed there was a half empty bottle of that disgusting potion, and a bit of the foul liquid dripped from the corners of one of the cuts. Looking under the bed, she found a straightrazor, left open to rust. _Has he done this to himself?_ she thought. There were a few drugs that had made their way into Luskan from the southern regions of the Sword Coast, but most of the good citizens preferred to numb their pain with liquor and pipeweed. There were also a few potions that she knew assassins brewed for their own benefit. That would explain the fever, she thought, and his troubled sleep.

She pulled the covers back to wipe the sweat from his chest. It was then that she saw the bandages around his left shoulder, and forgot all about the cuts on his arms. Someone had stabbed him in the shoulder, leaving a deep wound. It was just about the size of a steak knife.


	19. The Wolf

The band returned from Old Owl Well well after sundown. Duncan did not remark on the newcomer, but, impressed with the quality of his armor, found him to be an acceptable customer and gave him a single room near the front of the inn. Adahni went immediately to bathing area out back, pumped herself a barrel full of water, and drew the curtain. The water, normally excruciatingly cold, felt nice against her scratched and sweaty skin, cooling the sunburn she had suffered and the chafing of her new armor. Somewhat refreshed, she crept in through her window rather than show herself in the front of the inn looking bedraggled, dressed herself, and went out into the common room for a drink.

When she arrived, Duncan pulled her aside, throwing his arm across her shoulder, "Do something about that gnome you're traveling with," he hissed in her ear, "He's killing me. I've had three regular patrons walk out already. He makes you sound like a downright prodigy!"

Adahni followed her uncle's gaze to the corner of the room, where the ruddy-faced Grobnar was standing on a table, gesticulating and telling some long and boring tale, entirely in Gnomish, a language obscure enough that not even the retired scribe leaning on the end of the bar could understand.

"See? Now get up there and earn your damn keep!"

She rolled her eyes, but walked across the barroom and seated herself in her accustomed chair. The mandolin that had been so faithful to her had been shoved up against the wall. Grobnar had borrowed it, she imagined, and taken no care in replacing it. Ignoring him completely, she struck up a favorite drinking song. It was meant to be a duet between an amorous young man and a girl who was having none of his advances. The small crowd of drunks responded favorably, with enough noise that the unfortunate gnome lost his place in the epic he was reciting. He blinked, suddenly confused. He looked down at Adahni and nodded as though this was what they had been doing all along. When she came to the appropriate place, he began to sing in his lilting tenor.

_"I'll give my love a paper and pins, for that's the way that love begins_

_If you will marry, if you'll marry, if you'll marry me."_

Adahni responded with her verse, the young lady spurning the young man's proposals.

_"I don't want your paper and pins, even if that's how love begins_

_And I won't marry, I won't marry, I won't marry you..."_

By the time they reached the end, Grobnar was clogging on the table like a miner and Adahni had thrown enough dirty words into the lyrics that even the group of longshoremen crowded around the table was roaring with laughter. The whole affair ended in Grobnar getting a few free drinks from a couple of sailors on leave and getting too drunk to make any more objectionable noises. Attracted by a similar offer from the longshoremen, Adahni seated herself with them and was soon so flushed with liquor and laughter that she was persuaded to sing another song.

She sat back in her stool by the table. Her companions were scattered around the bar room, Neeshka drinking with a couple of handsome young watchmen (she had apparently changed her mind about the watch), Elanee curled up in the corner playing with her pet badger, and Khelgar arm-wrestling with a foulmouthed sailor from Thay. Qara was delivering mugs and pitchers of ale, her face crossly drawn and the green tattooes which covered her forehead sinking into her furrowed brow. The Paladin, though, the Paladin was sitting quietly at the bar, next to one of the old salts that always had his head on the table midway through the night, and gazing into his half full mug. Something in his face struck a chord with her, reminding her of something that she had forgotten, but not the thing itself, only that she had forgotten it.

_"Oh the bothy is empty and the harvest is in_

_And all the pretty plowboys drink whiskey and gin_

_My love is among them, the handsomest of all_

_But he will leave me here lonely when the snows start to fall_

_My pretty young harper, your work is year-long_

_For who in the winter would refuse a song?_

_But we plowboys are slaves to the seasons and soil_

_I'll find work in the city when the snows start to fall_

_I'll yearn for the country when snow's on the ground_

_And the leaves on the trees are all shriveled and brown_

_But it's my pretty young harper I'll miss most of all_

_Far away in the city when the snows start to fall..." (1)_

She smiled when he looked up to meet her gaze. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, almost a smile, she thought. She kept singing, channeling all the longing in her own heart into the song. She had gotten used to getting overly emotional responses to some songs, and was a little disappointed when she figured out that this was due to some inherited talent and not that she was actually any good. The crowd quieted. She saw one of the longshoremen utter a filthy word as he wiped his eyes with a filthier hand. But the spell she had woven over the other occupants of the bar didn't seem to work on its intended target. He was staring back into his drink, but not drinking it.

She finished the song and put down her mandolin. Grobnar took this as an invitation. Somewhere on the road back home he had obtained a set of Luskan bagpipes which were (thankfully) much too large for him to play while walking, the way they were intended. Instead, he stuck the pipe into his mouth, seized the chanter in both stubby hands, inflated the bag, and threw his entire body onto the bag, producing the desired sound. The mood quickly enlivened, several of the sailors got up and started clogging in a circle, and the longshoremen continued their conversation.

She walked over to the bar and seated herself beside the paladin.

"It is curious," he said, not looking at her, "I wouldn't have thought you the type to sing love songs."

"I sing what I feel like," she replied, "And I felt like that song."

"It has a lovely melody. Where did you hear it?"

"I didn't," she said, "I wrote it."

"Of course. You can't sing a stranger's song with such sadness. Who was the ploughboy?"

She shook her head ruefully, "His name was Alden. I don't remember his last name. And he never did come back."

"You must have been very young."

"I was," she said, "Fourteen.

"I was fourteen once," he said, chuckling, "If I had your way with words I probably would have won her heart and be in a very different place now."

"Ah, unfortunately my way with words has not gotten me much luck with menfolk," she said, laughing quietly.

"I see you melted the heart of that young dockworker over there," he pointed at the longshoreman, who was still staring unabashedly across the room at her.

"If it were a dockworker I were interested in, I doubt I'd need a way with words, other than the four-letter ones," she replied, grinning.

"Ah, so you prefer the more intellectual types."

"I've always had a healthy appreciation for book-learning," she replied.

"You said you were a bard," Casavir said, "And I remember what you did for Jem Quarely, but I've never heard you really sing before tonight. You've a talent. Why did you give it up?"

"Well I obviously haven't given it up," she replied, "I started studying the path of the Red Dragon Disciple recently and it's given me rewards physically that being a bard gave me intellectually. Here, give me your hand."

"My lady, I don't think that would be appropriate..."

"Don't be silly, I want to arm wrestle you," she said, smacking his shoulder playfully. She grinned at him, trying her best to look cute and innocent.

"Me?" Casavir said, raising his eyebrows, "I know you're strong for a girl, but..."

She stuck out her lower lip and looked up at him sadly. He rolled his eyes, but chuckled and put his arm up in the appropriate position. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt, and his biceps bulged. She stuck out her arm, also thick with muscles, but less than half the size of his.

"One... two... three!" she announced. She let him put up a fight for awhile, just so she was sure she didn't have the element of surprise on her side, and then slammed his knuckles flat against the bar.

"I see I stand corrected, my lady," he said, smiling, "What other tricks do you have up your sleeves?"

The bard in her came out again, wanting to perform. She held a candle to her arm and showed how it didn't burn. She breathed small licks of flame from her nostrils, lighting the candle after she had blown it out.

"That could be useful," he commented.

"Once I figure it out fully," she replied, "I can't do much more than light a smoke or a lantern right now, but if I can get it to be more powerful, I might actually be able to do some damage."

There was silence. She looked around to see that everyone in the bar was staring at her. She blushed, and turned back to her ale, resolving that she would have no further displays like that for a good long time.

"I suppose you think you're dreadfully clever," Qara's airy sneer drifted over to her from the scullery.

"I do, as a matter of fact," Adahni said.

"I fail to see why anybody would waste their heritage on what you're doing," the sorceress said. She stepped out of the scullery, an odd look on her face, "Your fancy tricks will only do you so much good against a person of true power."

Neeshka had jumped up from her table and was at Adahni's side in a flash, brandishing her dagger, "Leave her alone or I'll stick you like a pincushion."

"Was that a threat?" Adahni asked, looking at Qara sideways, not doing her the dignity of turning her head.

"I would not presume to threaten the owner's niece in his own establishment," Qara said.

"I've done you a few good turns there, lass," Adahni replied, "It would be awfully stupid to turn on me now."

"All right," Qara said, "Not now." She gave a little half-smile and went back to the dishes.

"She's not to be trusted," the paladin observed.

"Didn't need you to tell us that," Neeshka said, "She's bad as week-old milk and twice as spoiled."

"No," the Paladin said, "Evil... evil I can understand. At least there is a principle behind it. But with her, all I sense is self-service, for good or evil. She acts exclusively in her own interests."

Adahni kept her opinion to herself, but said, "I myself have had many misconceptions about people and their intentions, but I have come to the conclusion that one's meanings don't matter nearly as much as ones' actions. I might kill a man because he broke the law, and I might kill him because I like to kill, but he's still just as dead in the end."

"And if you kill a righteous man?" Casavir asked.

"Well," Adahni said, "It seems to me as though you might kill a righteous man having mistaken him for an evil man, or Qara might do it because she's a bitch... but at the end of the day he's still dead."

"How do you maintain order?"

"I don't," Adahni said, "Order is nothing more than a convenient assemblage of chaos, after all. People listen to me for whatever reason it is. Qara does because she's afraid of me. You do, well... I'm not going to put words in your mouth, but I doubt it's because you fear me."

"You have peculiar ideas," Casavir sighed, "I'm afraid all of this is quite beyond me."

Adahni was about to say something else, but forgot what it was and, for the first time in a long time, felt it might have been best to hold her tongue.

"I'm with ya, Addie," Neeshka said, "It'll all turn out in the end. Who's for another round?"

"Am I ever not for another round, dear?" Adahni asked, putting her arms around the tiefling and giving her a squeeze, remembering what Khelgar had said and resolving to make the girl feel a little more appreciated.

She drank deep of Duncan's amber ale. On the way back, she wasn't feeling much, being cheerful with her companions, but there was an ache in the pit of her stomach that didn't come from several days of eating soldiers' rations. As many times as she had tried to convince herself that she had put her past squarely behind her, the new life she was leading seemed to steer her right into it at every turn. Like the stranger at the docks had said, it was following her, nipping at her heels, and she could not shake it loose as much as she tried. She smiled a moment, thinking about the image of an actual wolf chasing behind her. Considering this, she was mightily surprised when she turned to go get another ale and saw a real wolf sitting there, gazing at her through yellow eyes. She swallowed a shriek.

Nobody else seemed to remark the creature, that is, until it got up, trotted over to her, and leaned its massive head on her knee.

"Awww, it's adorable," Neeshka crooned, scratching it behind the ears.

"One of those tried to eat you not long ago," Adahni looked down at the creature, who was now snuggling its head into her lap.

"Well it seems to like you," the tiefling said.

The wolf retreated, panting and leaning forward on its front legs, wagging its brushy tail in the air. Adahni got up, and it let loose a bark, wanting to play. It bowled around the bar room, knocking over chairs and bumping customers.

"Gods damn it, what's gotten into you?"

Adahni looked up to see that Luskan-looking bastard that she'd beaten her first day at the Flagon. She was hoping that he wouldn't come back, but here he was. He had a cut across the bridge of his nose, courtesy of her, but otherwise didn't look much worse for wear. He walked over to the wolf and crouched in front of her. The wolf sat back on its haunches and calmed down. He patted her on the head.

"I've got you what you wanted, Farlong," he growled, striding over to the bar and tossed a small pouch over to the half-elf.

"Lovely!" Duncan exclaimed.

"I'll be going now," he replied, looking over at Adahni, "I can see where I'm not wanted." He gave a sharp whistle and stalked back out into the night, followed by the wolf.

"Who's he?" the paladin asked.

"He's a prick with a bow," Neeshka replied, "He was rude to Addie on her first day here and she shamed him."

"I see," Casavir replied. His nostrils flared a little, "I wonder what that was he gave Duncan."

As luck would have it, Casavir would get his wish. Duncan bustled over, holding the pouch.

"Finest pipeweed this side of the Spine of the World!" he exclaimed. He produced a pipe from somewhere in his apron and tipped a little of the contents of the pouch into it and handed it to her, "Try it!"

Thrilled with another chance to show off, Adahni blew a small blast of flame into the pipe bowl and stuck the stem in her mouth. She smoked it slowly, inhaling the smoke. _She was fifteen, working her shift. Kyla handed her a pipe. She'd never smoked before, but Kyla said it would help her stay up. She'd nearly coughed up a lung, but fearing ridicule, she kept smoking it, and found it soothing._"This is Luskan tobacco," she said, frowning at the pipe.

"Of course!" Duncan said, "I get my young friend there to make a few runs over the border for me. I thought I'd let you have first go at this prize_..._what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. Tears had sprung to her eyes without her realizing it and she furiously raised her hand to wipe them away.

"How did you know it was Luskan?" asked Khelgar.

"Given how much I smoke," Adahni said, chuckling and taking another puff, "I've learned to distinguish. The tobacco grown in Neverwinter territory is rougher. It'll give you a sore throat just smelling it. Tobacco grown around Baldur's Gate is stronger. But Luskan tobacco is fine and fragrant and it's really no wonder it's so popular." She passed the pipe to Duncan, who took a puff and passed it to the tiefling.

"I'm drunk," Neeshka announced brightly after exhaling a lungful, "What are we doing tomorrow?"

"Back to the grindstone, I'm afraid," Adahni said, "We'll have to go tell Brelaina that we've succeeded. Maybe she'll let us into Blacklake and I can get this shard business taken care of."

"What will you do, once the shard is taken care of?" asked Khelgar, "I mean, we've been through so much trouble all to figure it out..."

"Well," Adahni said, "If this is, indeed the end of the road we're talking about, which I doubt it is, I seem to recall making you a promise regarding a fair dwarven maiden."

Khelgar grinned, "Aye, and I'll thank you for it, lass. But then what?"

"I don't really know," Adahni said, "There's a whole world to explore and I've only just seen a tiny corner of it. I suppose I'll go and leave my footprints somewhere new." She thought about Jem Quarely for the thousandth time that night, remembering how she'd told him of the adventures she'd wanted, and how few of them she'd had so far, "But for now, I think we probably ought to get some rest. No use showing up back at the watch looking like death warmed over."

She went to sleep, alone in her bed made for two. For the first time, it really felt empty.

_(1)If anybody was curious, this is meant to be sung to the tune of "The Maid of Llanwellyn."_


	20. History Lessons

The companions found Brelaina much where they had left her. She was asleep on her desk, a little rivulet of drool trickling from the corner of her mouth and smearing the ink on the documents she had been presumably examining before she'd drifted off. Cormick was sitting in the corner, glaring steadily at a drunk who was sleeping it off behind bars, but cleared his throat when he saw them come in. Brelaina started up quickly. There was a bit of ink on her cheek, which she wiped off furiously, succeeding only in spreading the stain over a quarter of her face. Neeshka snorted and gurgled into her hand, trying desperately not the laugh. Adahni saw, for a moment, why that dark haired lord they'd encountered outside the warehouse didn't think much of the Watch.

"Welcome back, lieutenant," the captain said, "Do you have anything to report?"

"I found him," Adahni replied. She held her breath, not daring to hope.

"You have done well, lieutenant. I knew my faith was not misplaced - you are to be commended for your efforts on Neverwinter's behalf. Your efforts at the Docks have greatly improved the position of the Watch..."

"So you're going to let me into - "

"But it has also drawn new predators."

She heard Neeshka's face hit her palm.

"Predators from Luskan," Cormick added.

The little hairs on the nape of Adahni's neck stood at attention at the mention of the city. "We ran across some of them already."

"Luskan is one of our less... benevolent neighbors. We have had trouble with them in the pass."

"You don't say!" Khelgar gasped sarcastically.

"A war actually," Cormick said. Adahni looked at him incredulously... did he really think she was that naive? That stupid?

"We have caught word that one of their agents is attempting to enter port on board a merchant vessel from Luskan - a vessel called the Sea Ghost. We need you to go to the docks and stop the Luskans. Return here when you have accomplished your mission."

"Just so you know," Adahni said, looking the captain in the eye, "I would normally take exception to the fact that you haven't yet even mentioned letting me into Blacklake. You're lucky I really, really don't like Luskans."

"You were too young to have been in the war," Casavir commented as they left the watch, "What problem do you have with Luskan?"

"I have my reasons," Adahni smirked.

"She's an enigma wrapped in a puzzle wrapped in a week's worth of sweat and beer," Neeshka said, "I don't need to be told twice, anyway. The war was hard on all of us."

"I know," Casavir said, bowing his head, "I did not intend to question your suffering."

"Apology accepted!" Neeshka said merrily, "Come on, let's go kill some Luskans!"

On the docks, the wind had picked up and was blowing, cruelly cold, in from the sea. Adahni's hair came loose from the bun it was clipped in and whipped around her face dramatically. She blushed and frantically tied it up again, using another kerchief she had acquired somewhere along the way.

"There it is," Adahni pointed. The Sea Ghost, a sloop with a poorly carved figurehead of a bare-breasted woman that looked suspiciously familiar, if only it had had red hair and wore too much makeup, sat bobbing as if it owned the place off a wharf. She approached cautiously.

"You there!" one of the sailors called, "Get away from the ship - now!"

"So this is the Sea Ghost?" Adahni asked, "Funny, I thought it would be bigger."

"What of it? We haven't given you permission to approach. Off the docks with you!" The sailor was growing frantic, his voice cracking on the last syllable.

"Luskan?"

"Yeah, If you think the troubles with Ruathym are going to keep our tradeships away, you're wrong. We Luskans travel where we want, when we want, and if we want to land here in this filthhole of a city, then we will."

"Thank you," Adahni said, bowing gracefully, "I just wanted to make sure I'd be killing the right people." In a flash, her rapier was out of its scabbard and into his chest. Neeshka, who was growing more agile by the day, bounded into the fray, dodging blows as artfully as an acrobat. Adahni had to admit, after the number of scrapes she'd helped the girl out of, she was proud of her newfound prowess.

The swordsmen were easy to take out. They fought in the roughshod manner that all Luskan louts did, no matter if they were defending their favorite whore's honor in a bar fight or fighting in the name of their lords. All through the short battle, though, Adahni kept her eyes on the odd-looking gentleman with the cobalt blue hair and complexion that made Katriona look downright tan, who was watching them from the prow. He strode down the gangplank regally and intoned in a nasal, high-class accent, "If you believe slaughtering these men will somehow protect your precious city, then you are sadly mistaken."

"And what is it, precisely, that you plan to do?" Khelgar asked, his beady eyes glinting like cold steel.

The gentleman laughed, spreading his arms wide so that his voluminous sleeves billowed out in the wind. And then he winked out of sight.

"Wizards," snorted Khelgar, "He'll run out of spells eventually."

"Let's hope we're not all burnt to a crisp by that time, shall we?" Adahni suggested, whirling and looking for any sign of him.

It was Casavir who located him, at the very end of the wharf and layed at him with his mace like a crazed carpenter on a very stubborn piece of hardwood. The wizard's spells held, the paladin growing frustrated as his blows either missed or pinged off the magical surface of whatever spell the man had erected around himself.

Khelgar's estimation, however, eventually proved right. The spell wore off, and in two blows, the paladin had cracked the man's skull. Adahni looked down in disgust. The blood that flowed from the gaping wound was not red, but the same cobalt blue as his hair. She saw him struggle to his feet. "Hnnh," he groaned painfully, "And so it seems my prey was waiting for me. I yield, Harborman."

"Prey?"

"Indeed, my Master has grown impatient with the frequency with which you cross our path."

"Well," Adahni said, "It seems the best way to avoid that eventuality is to keep your Luskan ass the fuck out of Neverwinter."

"Luskan?" the blue man muttered, "Ah, you think my master and Luskan are one and the same. No, it is a sleight of hand you see, where the left does not see what the right is doing, and the four Hosttowers do not yet see what the Master of the Fifth Tower plots."

"What in the hells are you talking about?"

"You," the blue man said, holding the cut on his scalp with one hand and pointing at her with a long and twisted finger, "Have come to the attention of my master, Black Garius. While he is of Luskan, he does not serve Luskan - his ambitions lie higher than nations, I think. When Luskan finds out what he plots, I do not think they shall be please, but by then, I think it will be too late. As for you - you have crossed him more than once, and I was sent to remind you that you would serve us better in death."

He took his hand off his head, and raised it in the air to cast another spell. Casavir brought his cudgel back down on the crown of his head. With a sickening crunch, the wizard crumpled to the dock in a puddle of oily blue blood. Adahni looked up at the paladin, who was gazing in horror at what he had just done. She nodded her thanks, and nudged the corpse off the dock and into the water with the toe of her boot, watching as he slowly sank into the frigid waters.

They walked in silence back to the merchant quarter. _Black Garius. I have heard that name before, _she thought, _he tried to kill that little halfling pirate. He must be an ambitious man. _What troubled her, though, was the idea of having ambitions 'higher than nations.' She had heard once of visions of utopian future where there were no kings and lords, and the whole of Faerun existed together, equally, with non to answer to but themselves. But, she had heard, too, of the evil ambitions of some men and women, to destroy the nations and rule the whole of the world under darkness. Neither eventuality bothered her much, she never really paid much attention to the confines of law, good, or evil, and did not imagine that that would change should the power structure change. Still, though, something about the blue man had rubbed her the wrong way.

Brelaina had scrubbed the ink off her face by the time they got back, but her cheek was still tinged a little. "We have heard of your success at the Sea Ghost - you are to be commended."

"So can I go to Blacklake now?"

"I have just received word from the Nine. They believe assassins are in Neverwinter - and have asked for our help in dealing with them. Proceed to the Merchant Quarter and deal with the situation."

"I hate assassins," Adahni grumbled, "We're going to have to take that bitch of sorceress with us, they're easier to spot when they're on fire."

"Good," Neeshka said, "That means I can take a break. My feet hurt."

"Is that fine with everyone else?" asked Adahni.

The sorceress, though she feigned disinterest in the whole matter, was clearly eager to leave scrubbing pots and pans and get in on the action. They made their way back through the park in the Merchant quarter into a ramshackle house near the warehouse where they had encountered Nasher's guard. Adahni kicked the door down debonairly with one toe.

"Those aren't assassins," Khelgar said, "They're a little too green."

"Githyanki?" Adahni said. She'd seen illustrations of them in books, always looking sinister. Before than one that she had seen in Westharbor and then along the roads, she had never seen one before. Now that there were here, en masse, she found herself fascinated with their had drawn in green or gray faces, as though the skin had been seized at the backs of their scalps and stretched back. They had no bridges to their noses, giving them the look of rotting corpses. She grimaced as they came at the companions, and she drew her rapier. They smelled, while not quite as bad as zombies, unsettling. She shuddered as one of their hands brushed her face. While the hands of humans, elfs, and dwarfs were rough, having ridges, the gith hand was smooth as a frog's skin. They were silent as death, too, never uttering a sound beyond a hiss, even when they were sore wounded and dying on the ground.

They made their way further in to the house. In the very depths of it, blue orb hung suspended among spikes driven in the floor.

"Now what do you suppose that is?" asked Adahni.

"I don't know," Khelgar said, "But I don't like the looks of it. Or of that!" he pointed.

"Of what?"

"That."

Adahni looked up, and to her horror, saw a huge... thing. It was about seven feet tall, either covered in black wrought iron, or made of iron itself. She had seen once an automaton animated by a little gnomish inventor who had passed through Westharbor when she was a child, but that automaton had been made of wood and sheepskin and had done nothing more threatening than dancing a jig at the gnome's command. This moved in the same spastic, jerky motions, but instead of arms, it had two long blades, glinting sharply in the lanternlight.

She froze. It seemed more interested in the gith than in her, and she was not about to do anything to get in its way. She motioned for her companions to stay still until it had left. It slashed every single one of the gith to the ground, and its eyeless head looked around the room. It came at her first, and she stepped up, motioning for her companions to be quiet. She slashed out at it, striking it on the arm. It rang like a bell through the room. The thing stopped again and looked around. Seeing nothing it was interested in, it galloped back into the portal - for that was what the orb was - and disappeared.

"What in the Nine Hells was that?" Qara said. Her voice sounded as though she had been holding her breath the entire time that thing had been going through the room.

"Just to make sure my eyes aren't lying to me - a huge suit of armor did smash through here, attack the githyanki - and us - then we drove it back through that portal? Because if my drinking is catching up with me, I'm stopping right now."

"I do not know who sent that golem, but it was attacking the githyanki... as well as us. There is a third party at work here," Casavir commented.

"I think we're all done here - unless you want to poke around more, we should probably report back," said Khelgar.

All four of them were entirely unsettled by what they had seen, Casavir more than the others. Qara didn't really seem to care about much and Khelgar rarely showed any fear.

When they returned to the watch's post, there were several others standing around where usually Brelaina and Cormick were alone.

"Lieutenant, you have done well. These men are from the Nine, under the service of Captain Nevalle," Brelaina said, smiling.

"You know our orders were that you give us the location of the assassins, Captain Brelaina, and let us deal with the githyanki," the angry outburst came from one of the Nine, a young blond with her ashen hair pulled back in the ponytail. Her voice was shrill and unpleasant, and Adahni narrowed her topaz eyes at her. "And now with the death of Lord Hawkes, I think the Watch's attention could have been better spent elsewhere."

Brelaina responded, her voice deep and even. As much as the captain had ticked her off in the last several weeks, Adahni had to admit that she liked how she was handling her issues with the rest of the power structure. "I believe the Nine and the Cloaktower are the ones responsible for the Watch in Blacklake - this matter was something my lieutenant could handle on her own, and has." Adahni smiled inwardly. Hierarchy be damned, just get the job done. That was an attitude she could support.

"I hope you're not blaming us for Lord Hawke's death. As I recall, the orders given to the Watch were to man the gates of Blacklake and solely act as couriers for the Nine nad the Cloaktower mages," the blond countered. Adahni concentrated on keeping her temper.

"We are, as always," Brelaina answered calmly, "Ready and able to serve Neverwinter in any capacity requested. If you wish us to take a greater role in the Blacklake investigation, then we would be happy to assist."

"I doubt any order I give you would be followed to the letter, Captain, but I appreciate your gesture nonetheless," the blond sneered. She looked down at Brelaina in contempt, "Good day, Captain. Lieutenant." She nodded snidely at Adahni, who glared back and refused to acknowledge her. She stalked out of the door, followed by her two guardsmen.

"Well," sighed Brelaina, "I suppose she must have been on her courses. As you no doubt heard lieutenant, while you were on your mission, there was another death in Blacklake - Lord Hawkes."

"So what does this do for me getting into Blacklake?"

"You have done all I asked at the Docs, and now I am giving you official permission to enter the Blacklake District."

Adahni grinned and shook the Captain's hand. "Well," she said, smiling at Khelgar and Casavir, "It looks as though our troubles are nearly over! Once I get there, find out the meaning of these ridiculous shards, we can all be on our way."

"I doubt it will be that simple," Casavir answered.

"It never is," Adahni said, "But I can hope, can't I?"


	21. The Price of a Life

_Six Years Ago, Luskan_

* * *

The Dance of the Damned had been out of the Luskan Port for three months, and Adahni's eighteenth birthday had passed two months before. The winter had set in, covering the Docks with a snow and bringing the frigid winds howling in from the Sea of Swords. Adahni gazed at herself in the mirror, braiding her dark hair over her head and clipping it so it clung it two ebony wings above her ears. She looked at herself, sucking in her stomach, and adjusted her bust, grimacing in pain.

"Are you all right, Addie?" Kyla asked. She was sneaking in behind the younger girl and applying her makeup in a corner of the looking glass.

"I don't know," she replied, placing one hand on her stomach.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I... I'm off my courses," she replied, gazing down at her belly. It didn't feel any difference.

Kyla sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, knowing what that meant, "Are you going to keep it?"

"Well," Adahni replied, "We're getting married anyway, might as well do it now as at any time."

"It's difficult," Kyla replied, "But having a child is wonderful. You've never loved like that before."

Adahni glanced up at her friend sharply, "And how would you know?"

"My mother said so," Kyla said quickly, and added, "I regret never having one of my own. Not that being in my line of business is the best situation for a baby."

"You're still young," Adahni replied.

"I'm twenty-seven," Kyla laughed ruefully, "I'll never marry. How long?"

"Two months? Three?" she said, "I used the potion from the alchemists shop, but these things are never certain…"

"So you're sure," Kyla said, "Do you want a boy or a girl?"

"Boy," Adahni replied, "Girls just grow up to break their fathers' hearts." She sighed, thinking of her father for the first time in a long while. She looked down at her belly, "I'm going to tell Dayven today. Do you think he'll be happy?"

"I don't know," Kyla replied, "It's always unpredictable with men. What'll you do if he puts you aside?"

"I suppose," Adahni said, "I'll have to ask for my house money back and bribe my way back to Neverwinter. Not that going crying back to my father with a belly is my ideal situation."

"Would your father beat you?"

"No!" Adahni exclaimed, "Never... but his anger cuts twice as deep as a beating. I've been away three years now, I wonder if he would even recognize or remember me."

"You never forget a child," Kyla sighed.

Adahni was about to ask what she meant by that, but thought better of it, and walked out into the frigid night to find Dayven.

They were wed by a low-level clerk in some administrative office. Adahni haphazardly followed Tymora, while Dayven never made his religious preferences known, and she was mostly interested in the legal implications of the union anyway. This way, he would be responsible for her, and the baby, and would have to support them even if he decided to up and leave. She, of course, would owe him the same, and would have equal rights to all of the money that came to either of them, and any debts incurred.

They spent the night in the room that Dayven called a flat. He had smiled at the news of the child, and did not want to lie with her, but he put his arms protectively over her abdomen and buried his head in her black hair. He looked haggard, she thought as the clerk had them both sign the appropriate documents and make the appropriate vows, but she figured that the assassins had probably been working him hard.

When she woke up, he was gone. It was midmorning, and she didn't have to work until late afternoon. It wasn't really what she had imagined her wedding being, waking up in a filthy flat in Luskan of all places. She never had any great expectations, even as a girl she'd been eternally cynical. A dark-haired ploughboy named Alden hadn't had to do too much convincing to get her to lie down in an empty bothy after the harvest was in. After he left her, she had resolved she would follow the next boy that loved her, and now here she was. Three months pregnant and a married woman just past her eighteenth birthday. A barroom wench whose best friend was a whore. The wife of an assassin - an incompetent one. She looked down at her belly and gave a small prayer to whomever was listening that perhaps her son would have better luck than she had.

She set to work, doing the work that she thought wives did, and cleaned out the room. She threw out the empty vials, and lined the full ones up along the corner. She imagined they were probably poisons that Dayven would use on his victims. She got into something resembling order. The day was dark, with snow clouds gathering in an angry sky. She gazed out the window and inhaled the air. She could see Kyla's small flat above the butcher shop across the street, and the Cuckoo's Nest several blocks away. She saw how small her world was, how few friends she really had, and suddenly felt the walls closing in on her. Gasping for breath, convinced that the room was running out of air, she ran out into the street, looking up, but even the sky was bearing down on her. She set her gaze on the horizon instead, and managed to calm herself.

The streets were empty because of the imminent storm. The wind had risen to a roar. She looked out over the grayness of the seas and screamed. Nobody could hear her.

And she heard nobody. She didn't hear the men approach her, didn't hear them roll up their sleeves, and did not hear as one of them raised a club and brought it down on the back of her head.

She awoke to Kyla's voice, shouting her name. Her eyes blinked open. She was looking at the ceiling. Her head ached dully and her limbs felt leaden. Kyla's face popped into view, followed by Dayven's.

"Are you happy now?" Kyla snapped at Dayven, "One of them survived." Adahni felt Kyla rip something off of her bodice and thrust it into Dayven's hand.

"I swear, Addie, I didn't know they were going to do this," Dayven said, seizing her hand. She was still not quite understanding what she was hearing, "I swear, love, I didn't know..."

"Damage is done now," Kyla said, "I suggest you get their damn money or they're going to kill her too. You're pathetic, Elhandrien, you're a pathetic waste of life. Get the hells out of here."

"It's my flat."

"I don't care," Kyla replied, "Get out."

Adahni turned her head to look at what was going on, just in time to see Dayven's cloaked back retreating out of the door and slamming it behind him. Her hand came into focus. Her knuckles were split, but she didn't feel any pain. She tried to sit up, but her aching head swam and she dropped back onto the pillow.

Not before she saw the blood.

"It's dead isn't it," she said flatly.

"Trying to take you with it, too," Kyla said, "I'm sending my brother for a priest."

"So there'll be no child," Adahni said.

"Well, either they didn't know you were pregnant, or they didn't care. A blow to the gut will do that," Kyla said.

"What happened?"

"What matters it what happens now. I'm going to give you something to drink, and you're going to go back to sleep. All right?"

"Kyla... what happened?" the older woman held a vial to her lips and Adahni drank obligingly. She found herself in a deep and buzzing blackness that did nothing to assuage her worry.

She awoke again later, not knowing how long it had been. She felt better, somehow more whole than she had been before. The cuts on her knuckles were gone, the bruising around her throat had receded, and the pain in her gut had eased. Someone had removed her bloodied gown and replaced it with a white shift. The flat was cleaner and smelled better - evidently Dayven had not been there for several days.

She eased herself up and looked down at her belly. It was flat and empty, as though she'd never had the child. Instead of the sadness she had anticipated, she felt light and free as a bird. When she looked out the window, instead of the closeness of everything, the sky looked broad and infinite, and the walls were only walls.

She threw a cloak around her shoulders and walked over to the fireplace. She had just gotten the damn thing lit when the door banged open, letting in a blast of cold air and put it out again. It was Dayven, beaten and bruised. He looked cold and withdrawn, his green eyes dull and sunken in dark circles. He waited her to light the fire again, and then sat in front of it, his cloak pulled tight around him.

"Addie," he said, through chattering teeth. She saw with horror that one of his front teeth had been broken off. His gums were bleeding a bit, too. He had more razor-thin cuts on his arms, "I'm in trouble."

"You're in trouble?" Adahni said, quietly and angrily, "You're the one who's in trouble?"

"I owe someone a lot of money," he said, "I... it's not my fault. They gave me... they gave me it during my initiation. They said it would make me know no fear."

"Gave you what?"

"Some call it the Madness of Cyric, some call it Assassin's Blood. My master had to give it to me, when I was afraid, when we went to that little village... I cowered, when they handed me the torch, I wanted to run. My master sliced my arm, like... like I've been doing since, and pressed a cloth soaked in it to the wound. It heats you up, makes you warm and agile. It feels like you are the most powerful being on Faerun when you've just gotten a dose."

"Do they give it to all of you?"

"No," he replied, hiding his head in his hands, "Only the cowards. I need it, Addie, without it I'm nothing. Just... just they refuse to give me anymore, they say that only the weaklings grow to crave it. So I stole it when I could, and when they caught me, they beat me. So I started to buy it, you can get it on the black market, but it's expensive, and I... I owe someone a lot of money, Addie. That's why they jumped you..."

He took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her.

_Have fun with the missus tonight. Have our gold by dawn or she'll have worse than this. _"They pinned it on you when they left you in the doorway."

"This was your fault?" she asked, looking at him, her eyes glinting dangerously, "They killed the child, Dayven."

"I know, I know... I can't... believe me Addie this pains me as much as it does you..."

"I assure you, it doesn't," she lied.

"They came after me tonight. I need the money or they'll kill me, and you."

"I already gave you everything I had!" Adahni protested, "You take all my wages... and you throw them away on a drug?"

"I promise," he said, "I'll find a way to stop, just, for now, I really need it. They're going to kill me!"

"How much?" she sighed.

"Six thousand gold," he said, turning his head away so he wouldn't have to look into her eyes.

"Six... thousand?" she gasped, her stomach sinking. If her calculations were correct, her wage of 10 gold a night, over three years, counting the days she had taken off, less the amount she needed for food, clothes and liquor, would have given him almost five thousand gold already. And that was only from her wages - what about his own? Between his initiation the year before and now he had managed to spend more than the two of them made in a year on... on what? Why couldn't he just get drunk to conquer his fears like the rest of the world?

"I don't make that much in a year," she said, "How do you expect me to come up with that money?"

"Kyla can make almost five hundred a night," he said quietly.

"Kyla's a whore," Adahni replied, "You... you want me to _what? _Dayven, I just lost a child!"

"Please, love," he pleaded, his eyes lighting up a bit, "I promise, I promise, I'll find a way to stop this madness. I will, I just need this one thing from you. I'll make it up... I promise."

"You filth!" she spat, "You drag me all the way to this hateful town, take all of my money promising me that we'll go home eventually, and now you do this? This is too far, Dayven Elhandrien, I have had enough!"

He was silent for a moment. She waited for him to burst into tears, apologize more, throw himself at her feet. Instead, he launched himself at her with agility that she didn't know he had, knocking her to the ground. The back of her head hit the floorboards with a crack and she saw stars dance in front of her eyes. She didn't make a noise, just stared up at him with fear in her eyes. He looked at her in horror, and backed away.

"Please, Adahni, I... I'm not right in the head."

She rose and nodded, her eyes brimming over.

"What... what are we going to do?" she asked.

A cold dread settled over her as she hurried through the darkened streets. She had two realizations that night. First was that Dayven was not ever going to be the same, and second, that she didn't think she really loved him after all. She had come to Luskan for love, and stayed in love with him, even when he wouldn't see her for weeks at a time. And then the war had started. And then the baby. _Poor bastard, _she thought, _I'm nobody's mother, and Dayven's certainly not anybody's father. Death in the womb was a kindness._

She had heard tell of Cyric's Madness. It was extracted from plants that grew high in the mountains, distilled like moonshine in copper kettles, and applied to a self-inflicted wound. It raised the temperature, increased speed and agility, and killed fear where it stood. The Circle of Blades did not give it to many assassins. They gave it to those they were afraid would escape. The chains of addiction bit deeper into the flesh than iron or steel. Dayven would never be free.

Her only thought at this point was that she had to get herself out of it, or at least survive until the war ended and she could slip back across the border. She cursed fate for bringing all of it together - his addiction, the child without whom she would never had married him, and the thugs. He was correct about one thing; they would come after her again, and the next time they might be worse. They might cut something off, or outright kill her.

"It's just my body," she said out loud to the night and the snow swirling around, "My body is mine again and I can rent it out if I want to." She thought of her father and felt hot tears gather and run down her cold cheeks. If he ever knew that she was having the internal argument she was right now, how ashamed he would be... She bowed her head and set her jaw. She would never cry for him again, she vowed.


	22. Shards

They were met on the other side of the gate separating the Merchant Quarter and Blacklake by a burly middle-aged guard. He blocked their way, but said that he would escort them to wherever they needed to go. "Old coot by the name of Aldanon is who we need to see," Adahni said.

"All right," the guardsman said, he took Adahni's arm by the elbow, like a gentleman would take a lady's, and guided them through the darkened, unfamiliar district, to the door of a great house wrong of reddish stone.

"Aldanon's you said, right? Well, here we are. Don't expect too warm of a welcome, though. He's been even more detached lately. I'll just wait here while you talk to him."

Adahni rapped on the door with the ornate knocker and the sound echoed through the empty district like a bell. "I'm sorry," a befuddled little voice came from the other side, "Are you here with the delivery?"

"I'm here with the City Watch. I'd like to ask you some questions."

"The Watch? Whatever are you here for? Is someone in trouble?"

"No trouble, but you have some information that I need."

"Really?" the voice nearly squeaked, "I'm always happy to help the Watch - and information is something of a specialty of mine, you know, quite a hobby. Let me just remove these wards... there, all disarmed. I think. Come right on in."

In person, Aldanon was more robust than she had imagined him from outside the door. He was probably past his eightieth birthday, but stood tall and unstooped; his hair was white, but he had all of it. "Ah, well met, well met... please forgive my rather rude questions at the door. I would never intentionally stand in the way of the City Watch, well unless there was nowhere left to stand, really. But that wouldn't happen unless there was a flood." Something about him reminded her of Grobnar, the little bard that they had left back at the Flagon. "I must confess," he continued, "Normally, I'm rather, well, reclusive. Not that I dislike people, mind you - quite the contrary. But lately with all the troubles -a murderer on the loose and young nobles sneaking around, up to who knows what - I've had to place wards around my home."

"Nobles sneaking around?"

"Ah, yes. Lately I've seen figures sneaking around in the dark. And not that well-meaning sort of sneaking, either! It's obvious what they want."

"What do they want?"

"Why, my house of course! As if I would ever sell it - ridiculous."

"Are you sure it's nobles?" she asked skeptically.

"Who else would come sneaking around my house that late at night?" Aldanon countered, "Except for you of course... oh, that's right. You came here for a reason?"

"Sit down," Adahni bade him. He pulled up a rickety stool and obeyed, "You see, it's a long story..." She put on her best 'bard' voice and did her best to make the whole thing interesting. By the time she was done, her three companions had sat themselves on the floor and were listening in rapt attention.

"Then what happened?" asked Khelgar.

She looked at him incredulously, "That's it. We're here. Nothing else has happened yet."

"It sounds much more fun when you tell it," Neeshka scowled, "There's less of us getting hit with pointy things and more of us kicking ass and taking names."

"Great Tyr!" exclaimed Aldanon, ''What a tale! The moment you arrived I knew I'd be interested in meeting you - wish I'd known that when I first greeted you, would have saved some time. You've certainly come to the right place. A while ago, I found another shard, with properties similar to the ones you possess. I've done every possible test on the shard, but learned little. But I've never had another one to test it with! If you'd like some answers, I'll gladly run some tests on your shards. I have just enough quicksilver to do it."

She handed over her shard wordlessly. The old man scuttled out of the room, leaving the companions.

"Do you suppose any other bards will be telling the tale you just told?" asked Khelgar.

"Depends," Adahni said, "If any of us survive to tell it, I should hope so."

"I don't suppose Aldanon is still sharp enough in the head to remember it. Thought I would love to me memorialized in song," Khelgar said, "Khelgar Ironfist, savior of the civilized world!"

"And consumer of vast quantities so ale," Adahni added, "Don't you worry, I've got a ballad or two up my sleeve in your honor."

Aldanon chose that moment to come back into the room. "My tests are complete!" he exclaimed, "With another shard to use as a comparison... well, I learned quite a bit! It appears these shards contain latent magical energy, either caused by a strong enchantement from when they were whole... or from their method of destruction. Furthermore, the shards resonate when they are brought together, increasing their magical output energy output accordingly. These shards are pieces of a broken Githyanki silver sword. Are you familiar?"

"Yes," Adahni replied, "I am."

"Well, then, I imagine you'll be wanting to talk to the old court mage, Ammon Jerro. He actually possessed a silver sword, you know... but he's dead. He may have family, though... and there was always his Haven of course."

"And?"

"The haven was a private retreat of some sort... I suspect the Neverwinter Archives here in Blacklake would have information on it."

"All right, let's go."

"Wait. Here, take my shard. I've no use for it."

He handed her a small silk-wrapped bundle like the ones she was already carrying. She tucked it into her pack gingerly, and the four of them exited the place.

The watchman was waiting for them. His face lit up when they reappeared.

"I need to go the archives," Adahni said before he could say a thing.

"My orders - "

"It'll only take a minute."

The interior of the Neverwinter archive positively reeked of githyanki. "Looks like they beat us here," she sighed.

They walked into the grand hall of the library, an impressive work of masonry, and were greeted by a man with a blindfold on. Adahni looked at her companions, wondering if anybody else found this as bizarre as she did. "Who's there!" the man shouted, "Answer me!"

"That's not really important," Adahni said.

"On the contrary, only a select few are allowed admittance to the Archives, and yours is not a voice I recognized."

"I think you might have bigger problems than your restricted admissions. Have you not smelled the githyanki?" she demanded.

"Well, if you're not one of them, then why are you here?"

"I need to know about Ammon Jerro," Adahni said, hoping she remembered the name correctly.

"Jerro? That information would only be contained within the vault. Many of Neverwinter's secrets are kept there, but it is for our eyes alone."

Adahni all but seized the man by the shoulders and shook him in frustration. "More than Neverwinter is at stake here. I need that information."

"Very well. If you swear to protect Neverwinter and keep its secrets safe, I will help you."

"I promise," Adahni said. She didn't really feel that it was a lie, more like telling a story to get the job done. That was what mattered, right?

"These marauders most likely seek entrance to the vault as well," the caretaker said, "You must find four pedestals in the archive - upon each is parchment and a pen which can only be seen by one wearing a Caretaker's veil. Each of the pens will scribe a question on the parchment regarding a book."

"Good. I'm good with books," Adahni said. She had taken a look around the shelves and saw that she had already read most of them, or at least listen to epics concerning their subject matter.

"Sounds like the test the Academy instructors used to give... and just as fun," Qara commented.

"The pen and parchment will inform you of the book their question concerns, and ask you for your answer. Answer all four correctly and the vault will open."

"Fine," Adahni said.

"Find the body of one my fellow caretakers. Take his veil and use it to find the panels."

The questions were simple ones, mostly out of histories. Adahni, who prided herself on her booklearning, was able to answer them without referring to the text. She thanked her father for that, for being absent so often that she turned to books, even the most boring ones, for entertainment. It was a habit she'd carried with her to Luskan and back, and she found the Luskan histories of the world, while of questionable accuracy, a good deal more fun than the Neverwinter ones. Casavir, a little surprisingly, was able to help her out on one she didn't know, and she thought she saw pride in his face as the parchment announced that he had answered correctly.

There was a creak as across the building, the heavy door to the vault slid open. Adahni took the veil off her face and tied her hair up again. "We ready for this, kids?"

Qara rolled her eyes and Khelgar pointed out the ridiculousness of her calling them kids, as all but Qara were older than she. Adahni shook her head, drew her blade, and led them into the vault.

Her stomach sank as they reached the doors. The gith had beaten them there, their drawn and sunken faces gazing at the pile of books that they had just dumped on the floor. She hated to admit it, but she felt a little worse about their desecration of the books than their slaughter of the librarians.

"We have the location of the Haven," their leader hissed, "Interesting... there is another Jerro. Zeeaire will want her. I shall take care of the descendant. Wipe out all mention of the thief, then rejoin the others."

Adahni cleared her throat.

"The _Kalach cha! _Kill her!" one of the minions cried.

It was Qara who took them down, hitting them with fire and magic and acid until they had collapsed in two piles of stink on the flagstones. Adahni walked up to the book of interest and looked down at the open page. It had been partially torn out, but there was a name.

"Shandra Jerro," she said, "I had hoped to never see her again."

"Well, lass, it looks like your poor judgment has come around to bite you in the behind," Khelgar commented.

"What poor judgment?" asked Qara, "That doesn't really narrow our leader's actions down."

"What was his name?" Khelgar asked, "Started with an 'M.'"

"Shut up, Khelgar," Adahni growled, glancing at the paladin.

"Well, I hope she's forgiven us for the farm burning down. We need to get to her and quick. The githyanki are probably heading there right now."

"We're going to need Elanee," Adahni said, "She can probably get us there in a day or two. Maybe longer, unless anybody wants to sail."

"The gith won't be able to sail, we'll stand a fighting chance of beating them there," Casavir said.

"I am not getting on a boat," Qara said.

"Fine, go back to the scullery. I'm sure Neeshka will be ready for some action," Adahni said.

As luck would have it, Neeshka was nowhere to be found, but a ship sailing for Highcliff was. With Adahni's gold and a few sweet words, he let them aboard. Khelgar went belowdecks to drink with the sailors. Adahni sat in the stern and watched Neverwinter grow smaller behind them.

The paladin startled her when he sat down beside her, his armor clanking against the deck. She self-consciously tucked her legs under her and tried to be a little more ladylike.

"You are troubled," he said.

"Well," she replied, "Can you really blame me?"

"No," Casavir said, "It's something beyond our ordeals today."

"Eh," she said, smiling, "I've done a few things I'm not proud of and we're sailing back towards one of them."

"From what Khelgar tells me you did Highcliff a good turn, opening up their harbor again," Casavir said, "Why would you say you're not proud of that?"

"I had a little to drink and was a little too free," Adahni said, "I am a little chagrined about my behavior."

"So have we all," he said. He was quiet a moment, and then divulged,"I did not inform Neverwinter of my decision to leave their service. It is a bit of a struggle being back in the city."

"But it's your home," Adahni said.

"It is," he said, "Where is your home?"

"Westharbor is where I grew up," she said.

"Is it a seaside town?"

"No," Adahni replied, "We used to joke about how Westharbor is neither a harbor nor is it particularly far west."

The paladin chuckled lowly, "Do you miss your parents?"

"I never knew them," she said, looking up at him, "My mother was a local girl who came back from who knows where with a belly. The man who raised me took her in, and when she died, he became my father."

"Do you miss him?"

"A little," she replied, "He's elvish. I'm sure if I made it to two hundred I would perhaps understand him, but as it stands we don't really get each other... which is fine, I suppose. What about you?"

"My family situation is... complicated," the paladin said, his bows furrowing.

"Compared to mine?"

"Well, perhaps not," he replied, "But my parents and your husband seem to be in the same category."

Adahni sucked her teeth, "That they were evil as demons and half as amusing?"

"That I don't want to talk about them."

She felt a little embarrassed, but saw the merriment in the paladin's eyes. "So you're not allowed to ask about my husband and I can't ask about your parents. So tell me, why exactly is it that a man your age hasn't gotten snapped up yet?" The devil on her shoulder whispered something into her ear, and she turned to him with a sly smile, "You don't prefer gentlemen, do you? Because that never bothered me, as much as some of the priests thought it was- "

He silenced her with one gloved hand, "I assure you, that is not the reason."

They were interrupted by the dwarf trundling up from below-decks, his face sickly and gray.

"Don't get up. He's going to hurl, and then he'll be fine," Adahni said.

"You know, for such an educated woman, you can be incredibly crude," he said.

"Oh, I'm not educated, I just read a lot," she said, feeling her face grow hot, "Really I'm just a farm girl who sings songs sometimes. I didn't go to school or anything."

"I have known women who have spent their lives being educated by the top tutors in Neverwinter, and they are still, well..."

"Dumb as bricks and half as useful?"

"You're being flippant with me," the paladin said, sternly, "I was attempting to give you a compliment."

"Sorry sir," she said, sticking out her lower lip. This got another chuckle. It gave her a feeling of power, making someone so somber and unapproachable laugh. He reached out and ruffled her hair like he would have done to a little brother. The contact sent a jolt right down her spine, rooting her to the deck. _Didn't expect that one_, she thought, looking at him again. The blood had risen to her cheeks and she could hear it rushing in her ears. He was still laughing, the skin around his eyes and mouth crinkling endearingly.

_Nothing good is going to come of this._

She rose uncomfortably, sure that everyone was looking at her.

"What's wrong, my lady?" asked Casavir, "I didn't mean to... be too forward. You reminded me of..."

"Of what?" she asked, whirling on him. Anger was a good compromise, "A dog?"

"I meant no offense!"

"Nobody ever does," she said, turning and putting her hand in the air to keep him from following her. She went and leaned over the bulwark in the bow._ What was that about Addie? A man touches you and you get a bolt to your nethers, what is wrong with that? Every other time you would be on his lap with your legs around him in two minutes flat, not stalking off like you're on your courses._ It seemed wrong, that was what. He wasn't anything like any man she'd known. It would have been vain to think that he was strange because he showed no sign of desire for her. Plenty of men did not desire her. But the paladin had never cast an inappropriate glance over Elanee or Qara or Neeshka or anyone else. She planted her chin in her fist and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Then she realized that, at least for the next few hours, the task at hand was standing or sitting, and waiting to dock.

She went into her backpack, finding a couple of the books of ballads that she had surreptitiously lifted from under the gaze of the archive caretaker, and, curling up in the shade of the mainsail, began to read.


	23. Slavery

_Six Years Ago, Luskan_

* * *

"Hullo there, Mrs. Elhandrien!" a low voice called from the alley behind the Cuckoo's Nest as she approached. She whirled, her skirts flaring out in the softly falling snow.

"So I hear you're the ale wench at this fine establishment here," the owner of the low voice said. He crept out of the alley and into the dim light of the oil lamps outside the bar. He was tall, very tall, and his oversized teeth bespoke some orcish heritage.

Adahni nodded, looking up at him defiantly.

"We've met," he said, his speech obscured by the two long fangs that jutted out from his lower jaw, "Before, although I can't imagine you remember. You took quite the tumble!" He smiled, from ear to pointed ear, "See, your new husband is a dear friend of me and my brother. A most loyal customer."

She stayed silent, still glaring into his yellowish eyes.

"Now, unfortunately, we don't deal in contract killings, and that makes Dayven useless to us," he said, "However, we _do_ deal in pretty young girls such as yourself. Now, seeing as you and he are man and wife, and that makes all of your assets and debts half yours, it seems as though you owe my brother and I a pretty penny."

She didn't say anything, but did not take her eyes off of his.

"It is such a convenience that you already have taken up residence in this fine place," the half-orc continued, thumping the wall of the Cuckoo's Nest behind him, "I just took the liberty of speaking with the proprietress, lovely woman, and she was most accommodating. In fact, she said that since you've been such a good employee these long years that she would only take 50 as her cut, leaving the rest, of course, for us, to pay down our little debt."

"How much?" she asked.

"More than you'll make for quite a while."

"Go to the hells, you and your brother," she spat, "You'll get your money, but I never want to look at your face again."

"Aren't you quite the hellcat," the half-orc leered, "Watch your tongue, or I'll have a mind to test the goods before putting them on the market."

"You'll get your money," Adahni said, not breaking eye contact.

"Good," he said, "We will come around once a week to collect."

"Fine, Mr..."

"You can call me Mr. Grumph."

"We both know very well that's not your name."

"What, and you didn't expect a half-orc to have some monosyllabic grunt as a name like every other human?" the orc grinned, his fangs glistening in the lamplight, "I should have given you more credit, Mrs. Elhandrien! Well, until next time..."

_The war will be over eventually,_she thought, _and I can survive until then._She turned her back on Grumph as he melted into the shadows behind the inn. She felt the hot tears in her eyes, but tolerated the pain in her throat and chest that came from holding them in. She walked right through the bar room - Kath was still cleaning up for that night and only two working girls were standing inside the door. They looked disappointed when it was only her.

They had names, she supposed, that she had learned. She kept to herself mostly, talking only to Kyla and Dayven and a few customers, and not really letting anyone get to know her or getting to know anyone. She spend her spare time playing the harp and mandolin, or poring over Kath's large library. The madame cultivated an air of sophistication out of place in the Luskan docks, but the books brought comfort quelled Adahni's boredom. The two girls had been there since she could remember, sisters, or cousins, or just friends who looked alike and would often take the same client for an extra fee. She nodded to them, and they smiled at her piteously.

"So I hear your young man's been getting you into a bit of trouble," Kath said as she walked by. She looked down at Adahni with pity in her green eyes.

"Understatement," Adahni declared.

"They own half the girls here," Kath said, "Smuggle them in from the southern reaches, promising them work, and then taking their money once they get here. Others are a bit too fond of whatever mind-altering substances. You would know all this if you spent more time talking to people instead of spending the last three years with your nose in a book."

"And you?"

"Better they use my rooms than run off into a dark alley where nobody will notice when they turn up dead."

"I see."

"It can't be helped now," Kath said, "It's best not to think on it." She put down her washrag on a bench and walked over to the bar, where a vase of black roses sat. She plucked one from the vase, trimmed the thorns off with a paring knife, and handed it to Adahni. "Tuck that in your bodice once you've laced up. You're one of us now."


	24. The Old Fashioned Way

_She was flying low to the ground, the tops of the pine trees grazing the scales on her belly. It took her a few moments to realize where she was, swooping down from the Sword Mountains into the valley of Old Owl Well. She alighted on a boulder the size of a house, tucking her wings into her back. There was a farmer there pushing her plow, a baby strapped to her back, turning the earth so that it would be workable in the springtime. The farmer didn't see her, but the baby did. He opened his amber-brown eyes and flailed a clumsy hand at her. If she had had lips, she would have smiled. She emitted a low, crooning noise._

"Addie!" she awoke to her shoulder being shaken and Khelgar's breath in her face. He smelled of old ale and bile from his small bout with seasickness. She gagged and rolled over. She had, evidently, fallen asleep, her head on the tale of an adventurous bard.

"Are we there yet?"

"They're about to pull into port. I thought we'd probably want to jump onto the wharf and hurry up there. You know, the whole githyanki thing?"

Adahni got up and rubbed her eyes. She tucked the two volumes back into her pack and squinted. The sun was going down over the sea to the west and the reflection off the water was dazzling. They were close to land now, and sailors were scurrying all around them, pulling ropes and shouting at each other. She scrambled to get out of the way, but not before one of them had tripped over her leg and gone sprawling on the deck.

She extended a hand to help him up, which he took in his calloused paw to pull himself to his feet. He was a young man, though his face was lined from all the time in the sun. He grinned at her, and she felt her heart sink. Four years before, he'd been a boy on his first voyage on a ship that ran goods between Luskan and Port Llast. He'd wandered into the bar, flanked by two old sea dogs who had been pounding his back and buying him drinks. Kyla had sent her over to him to see how much he was good for. He had paid her half his wages, and then been too drunk to perform and feel asleep in her arms. He got his money's worth in the morning, she remembered almost bitterly.

_This is going to be extremely awkward._

"Thanks, sweetheart," he said, winking at her. He turned to go back about his task, but shot over his shoulder, "Long way from Luskan, ain't you?"

"Not long enough," she said.

"Nice you see you're making your living playing with actual swords," he said, winking, and ran off to prow to lower the topsails.

"Who was he?" asked Khelgar, looking up at her suspiciously.

"Old lover," she said. Half-truth.

"What's his name?"

_Shit._"You know, I'm not really very good with names," she said.

"I take it he didn't impress you too much," the dwarf commented.

"Not many men do," she replied, smiling mysteriously. She glanced over to the stern, where the paladin was striding towards them, his armor clinking in a most undignified manner.

"My lady, I really must apologize. My behavior was untoward," he said, keeping his eyes on the ground.

"It's all right," she said, "I just, I'm not used to being touched, much less have my head petted like a favorite hunting hound."

"I assure you, I will be keeping my hands to myself henceforth," the paladin said.

"I'm sorry I made such a scene," she replied.

"You reminded me of a squire I had once," he said, his head bowed, "But that is a tragic tale and now is not a time for tales."

"What is it a time for then?" the dwarf asked.

"Why," Adahni said, "Rescuing the fair maiden, of course."

The ship had pulled up alongside the wharf. Ropes were thrown to the dock workers, who tied them up quickly. The sailors started to lay down the gangplank, but Adahni got a running start, vaulted over the bulwark and landed with both feet on the dock. She looked up at her companions. The dwarf was shaking his head decisively. Qara had appeared from belowdecks sometime, and she looked down at her leader with pure disdain in her eyes.

In about fifteen minutes, the gangplank was down, and the companions were stomping, striding, and mincing their way down it. "Come _on!_" Adahni cried in frustration. She leaped up the steep path which lead from the seaside to the cliff on which Highcliff was situated, and presumably for which it was named. She took the stairs two at a time, the anxious energy pushing her forward.

She made it through the town at a slow jog and out through the inland gates, her companions following behind her. The path up to Shandra's house was longer than she remembered. _Everything is harder when you're sober,_she thought. The fields were empty and looked as though they had been plowed lately. She cast about furtively, and saw grayish green shadows running in and out of the burnt-out hulk of the barn.

"Shandra!" she called, her voice echoing off the trees. The blond appeared from around the side of the house. She had her hair down around her shoulders and she was carrying two buckets on a yoke around her neck. When she saw Adahni, she put them down and grabbed a pitchfork from the ground.

"You? What in the hells do you want?" she asked, approaching her cautiously, "Haven't done enough damage yet? Are you going to burn down my shed and have a tryst in my pigsty now?"

Adahni felt her face grow hot. Thankfully, her companions had not yet caught up with her and the paladin had, hopefully, not heard that little comment.

"Look, I'm sorry about all that, but this is serious. You need to come with us."

Shandra looked over her shoulder to see Khlegar huffing and puffing up the hill, Qara behind him, and the Paladin moving like a clumsy automaton in his heavy armor.

"Like hells I am!" the farmer cried. She tossed the pitchfork at an astonished Adahni and ran into the house, drawing the bolt with a heavy 'thunk.'

"What now?" asked Khelgar, "We don't have the demon girl here to pick the lock."

"That's a deadbolt, she wouldn't be able to do much with it anyway," Adahni replied, "We're going to have to do this the old fashioned way."

"It looks like the Gith already have," Qara commented. She pointed one manicured finger at the corner of the house, where a githyanki mage was gearing up for a spell.

"Oh hells no," Adahni said. She grabbed Qara's little dagger out of her belt and hurled it at the mage. There was a time when she was deadly accurate with a throwing knife, but she was out of practice, and the dagger was off balance. Instead of hitting the mage, it flew between his hands and buried itself in the throat of the gith behind him. Undistracted, a blast of flame issued from the mage's hand, knocking the door out of its frame and setting the entire side of the house on fire.

Khelgar and the paladin made short work of the gith. Adahni, who no longer feared fire, went into the house to find Shandra. "Shandra, you stubborn bitch, you're going to get yourself killed!"

"A little help here, please!" she heard Shandra's voice calling. There were several gith surrounding her, bristling with weaponry.

"I think an apology is in order," Adahni grumbled, but reared her head back and summoned fire from her throat. This time, instead of a pithy little flame, a great spout of fire roared out of her mouth, igniting the giths' sparse hair and clothes. They left Shandra and turned their attention to Adahni. She fought them off as best she could, but her fire attack had not been as effective as she had planned, and they did not go down as easily as she expected.

She heard Qara's voice behind her, whispering words, and before she knew what was going on, there was a ball of fire exploding right near her left foot, knocking the gith on their backs. Shandra had darted behind an overturned table. Adahni felt the heat of the fire and her eyes watered as they were filled with acrid smoke, but she felt no pain, and her skin did not blister. As the fire disapated, she walked over to the table and yanked Shandra to her feet.

"You are entirely more trouble that you're worth," she said, "Come on, let's get out of here before they return with reinforcements."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"In case you hadn't noticed, your house is on fire, and I just saved your skin," Adahni said, "Come on!"

Reluctantly, Shandra let Adahni tug her out of the door. There was a great rumbling crack as they ran out into the field, and the roof of the house caved in in a shower of sparks. "My house!" Shandra cried, "As if losing my barn _and_the harvest wasn't enough!"

"You act like _I_torched them," Adahni said, "This is the second time I've saved your sorry ass, and all you can do is yell at me?"

"Well now I'm homeless, and my livelihood is ruined," the blond said, turning her angry hazel eyes to Adahni, "What do I do now?"

"You do what I said in the first place, and come with us," Adahni said. She was positively fuming by now. _Ungrateful little..._

It was the paladin that saved the day, all but pushing her out of the way to have a calming word with the yellow-haired farmer. She stepped back, rolling her eyes. For a fighter, the paladin had a way with words, and had convinced Shandra to come with them within minutes. She didn't know if it was the aura or just that Casavir sounded sane and reasonable compared to the rest of the quartet, but if her eyes weren't lying to her the farmer was positively smitten. She swallowed the pang of jealousy, wondering where it came from, and led the way back down the hill and into town.

It was past nightfall by the time they reached the harbor, and the goods from Neverwinter had been unloaded. Bales of hay and crates of vegetables were being put into the hold for transport to the city.

"Oy!"

Adahni looked up. It was the sailor who had tripped over her. She was glad that it was dark and nobody could see her blush with shame.

"Heading back to Neverwinter so soon?"

"We got what we came for," she replied.

"We don't sail until the morning," he replied, "You're going to have to find a place to stay the night."

"I recall there being an inn with some decent ale," Khelgar said, "We've had a long day, and it's a long, vomitous ride back to Neverwinter."

"Well, you're always welcome in my bunk," the sailor said lewdly, "And the blond there, if she's up for it."

"No!" Adahni replied in consternation.

"Aw, come on, love, it's been a month since I've had a woman's comforts."

"How dare you speak to her like that?" the paladin said gruffly, "Apologize!"

"Sorry," grunted the sailor, "Didn't realize she was your woman."

"I'm not his woman. I'm my own damn woman," Adahni replied, "And I don't need a reason not to want to sleep in a rat-infested hold on a two-foot wide plank accompanied by your tar-smelling self."

"Well sorry, miss," the sailor said, "Just thought I'd make the offer. Sure and there's plenty of girls that'd be please to share my plank. How about you, red?"

Qara didn't say anything, but raised her hand and shot a small spout of flame at him, which ignited the seat of his pants. He shrieked like a girl and dove off the side of the ship into the filthy water of Highcliff harbor. Adahni giggled in spite of herself.

"I think that's worth an ale," she said the the sorceress, slinging her arm about the girl's shoulders, "You know, you're really starting to grow on me."

"Like a foot fungus," muttered Khelgar, "Come on, then, we can get some bunks in a dormitory and get some real sleep tonight."

The innkeeper remembered her from their last stint in Highcliff and gave her a discount, though she tried to refuse. He also insisted on giving them two private rooms instead of just a bunk and a foot locker. Shandra immediately curled up in one of the three beds in the womens' room and hid her head under the covers. Qara set her pack down in the corner, and went back out into the barroom, evidently glad to be able to have an ale and a meal in the place where she wouldn't have to do all of the dishes afterwards. Adahni was almost out of the door, but a pang of pity struck her. The farmer was kind of a bitch, she reasoned, but didn't she have a good excuse?

"I know it's bad," she said, seating herself on the foot of the bed, "And I know I'm not your favorite person in the world, but at least you escaped with your skin intact."

"I've lost everything," Shandra said.

"I know," Adahni said, "I've been there, believe it or not."

Shandra looked up at her. Adahni could see that she had been crying.

"What happened?"

Adahni sat silent for a moment, thinking about what version of the story she should tell to the woman. "About a year ago, I had gotten myself into a very bad situation," she said, "I was married to a man who beat me and took advantage of me in every way. I finally got up the courage to leave him, and I had to leave him in a hurry, leaving everything I owned. I survived on the kindness of strangers and snuck back into my father's house in the dead of night, like a delinquent."

"At least you had your father," Shandra sniffed.

"I did, and I'm grateful for it," Adahni said, "I know I've been a bit of a harbinger of doom for you, but you'll find that I'm a useful ally and a loyal friend."

"You want me to be a sellsword like yourself?"

"If you wanted," she said, "There's plenty of employment in the city. You could work on the docks, join the watch, until we figure out what to do with you."

"What did you want me for, anyway?"

"I'll explain it to you once we make it to Neverwinter. For now, you should get some rest, and I should go get drunk," Adahni said, thinking that telling her that they only needed her to find her probably-dead grandfather was probably not the best idea given the woman's fragile state.

"Adahni," Shandra said, grabbing her wrist as she rose.

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"No skin off my ass," she replied, "Get some sleep. It won't seem so hopeless in the morning."

The farmer rolled over and buried her head in the pillow. Adahni stripped off her armor. Her undershirt wasn't too torn, only ragged under her arms where the stays of her corset rubbed against it. In her hurry she hadn't thought to bring another, but damned if she was going to go the whole night in chainmail. Her britches were leather, and comfortable enough, so she kept them on. She took her hair out of its kerchief and let it fall around her face, hanging down to the middle of her back. She stole a glance at herself in the mirror. The sun had darkened her skin to an even deeper tan, which disguised the bags under her eyes. Her instinct was to paint herself like she used to, hide that scar under her cheekbone, the remnants of acne that haunted her hairline even well into her twenties, but she was a soldier now, and a soldier didn't carry her paints with her like a lady of the night would.

She fingercombed her hair and went back down to the bar. Khelgar was already down there, armor and all, on a bar stool. His axe lay under the stool as a reminder to anyone who wanted to mess with him.

"I see you're getting to work early," she said, pulling up a stool beside him, "Give me a pint of whatever's dark." The innkeeper smiled at her and handed her a tankard of a dark, bitter stout. She sipped it, enjoying the fullness of it after so many nights of Duncan's amber ale.

"An Ironfist shrinks from no enemy," Khelgar declared, "Where's the farmer?"

"She's sleeping," Adahni replied, "Where's the paladin?"

"Putting on some normal clothes. I don't understand what it is with you humans and not wearing your armor when you're not fighting! It's like my second skin, I feel downright naked without it," Khelgar said, "But you people just show up at bars in your skivvies!"

"These aren't my skivvies," Adahni insisted. She looked down at her undershirt. It was white and made of poorly woven cloth. If she hadn't been wearing anything under it, she supposed it would have been indecent, but her corset covered her from bosom to waist, and there were women in there wearing less. Although, she supposed, they were professionals.

Casavir chose that moment to walk down the stairs. Adahni ordered him an ale and set it down in front of him as he sat beside her. "Thank you," she said, "For defending me down at the docks."

"I know you don't need my protection," he said, "But I am only too happy to offer it."

"And I am grateful for that," she said, "It's only too easy to forget I'm a woman sometimes."

"You sure remembered it back at the Well," Khelgar grunted, chuckling.

"Shut up, Ironfist," Adahni said, giving him a playful punch in the shoulder.

"I have been meaning to speak with you about what happened at the Well," Casavir said.

Adahni froze, bracing herself for a lecture on the sanctity of marriage vows.

"With Katriona," he said, "I know you must think me a callous fool for leaving her there when she so clearly wanted me to stay."

She immediately relaxed. "Were you lovers or something?" asked Adahni, shifting the focus onto him.

"No, though she would have people think that," he said, "She was a good sergeant, nothing more."

"So why would I think you a callous fool? I don't go around purposely spending time with people whom I would only lead on and wind up hurting," Adahni said, "Your soldier - Quarely - wanted to come with us and I told him no, do you think me a callous fool for doing that?"

"That's different," the paladin said, "He had a wife and child to return to. Katriona has nothing. She lost her parents to the war and her husband to the harsh winter."

"You feel guilty," Adahni observed.

"Don't you?"

"Well," Adahni said, "No. It is difficult, if not impossible, to have a working relationship when your feelings for one of your companions extend beyond those of friendship and loyalty."

"You're wise beyond your years," the paladin said.

"I'm twenty-four, I'm not a child," she replied.

"Katriona is nearly ten years your senior and she has not realized the importance of getting the task at hand done," Casavir said, "And feelings be damned." At this last bit, his voice sounded clogged, as though he were fighting back tears. She flinched. She had never heard him curse before.

"Pardon my Elvish," he said, "I am a bit troubled."

"Oh please, my language is anything but genteel," she said, "Fuck, shit, cock, bitch. There, feel better?"

The paladin smiled in spite of himself, "Returning to Neverwinter has been hard on me."

"Old girlfriend?"

"Something like that," he replied, shaking his head ruefully, "But I'm glad that it's in the company of someone like yourself. You lighten my load, so to speak."

"Glad to do so," she said, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks for the millionth time that night.

"Oh cut it out, you two," Khelgar said, "You're acting like schoolchildren. I need a favor to ask you, Cas."

"And what is that, Master Ironfist?" the paladin replied.

"Look over there," Khelgar said. At the end of the room were two women, a dwarf and a half-orc wearing sailor's uniforms. The dwarven girl had black hair. While she was beardless, she had long sideburns which she had grown long and braided. The paladin all but grimaced. The half-orc had red hair and great curling tusks, and was easily over six feet tall.

"I need you to distract the redhead while I talk to the brunette," Khelgar said.

"I really don't think that would be... proper."

"To the hells with proper, I haven't seen a dwarven lass around these parts for months!"

"Ugh," groaned the paladin, "She's got... _tusks._"

"By Tyr's right buttock, you don't need to bed her, just... talk to her!"

Adahni was finding the entire scene hilarious, but managed to keep her laughter to quiet giggles.

"What do you talk to a half-orc about?" the flustered paladin asked.

"Oh, I don't know!" Khelgar said, "Come on, I'll owe you a favor."

To Adahni's amazement, he got up and went along with it. She sipped her ale and watched from across the room.

"Adahni Farishta!"

She looked to see a familiar face alight on the bar stool beside her. It was the boy that she had defiled Shandra's haystack with. If only she could remember his name, now... what did it start with?

"Oh, hullo," she said, "Fancy meeting you here." She smiled into her ale.

"You don't remember me, do you," he said, "Don't blame you. It's me, Mozah."

"Of course!" she said, "I remember you, of course I remember you, it's just... I've

been meeting so many new people in the last few months that names are not my strong suit."

"I know, it's all right," he said, "Though I'm sorry I didn't make more of an impression on you."

"I was drunk," she said, "My memory is hazy."

"Mine too," he said, cheerfully, "Care for a dance?"

"Sure, why not?"

They took to the floor much like they had before, joining a few other couples who were whirling and dipping to the tune of the minstrels in the corner. She looked over and saw the paladin deep in conversation with that tusked girl. She smiled at him, and he waved a little, clearly wanting her to come over and intervene. She shook her head at him as her partner grabbed her by the waist and twirled her around. If she could manage to duck out when the paladin wasn't looking, maybe she could spend another night in someone's haystack, she thought. The last thing she needed was him losing all respect for her. _If he hasn't already._

"You want to take a walk?" the boy asked her.

She glanced over. Cas had seated himself at a table with his back to her. That was all the encouragement she needed, "Sure. It's getting hot in here, anyway."

He grabbed hold of her hand and they ran out of the door and into the black of night.

* * *

The next day, she awoke in the bed she had rented, Qara snoring on one side of her and Shandra shaking her awake. She sat up, and winced. She put a hand to her bottom to find it chafed and raw. _There was a bottle of whiskey hidden in his hay loft. They had brought it out to the woods. Rocks and stones were not exactly the most comfortable surface..._She pulled a leaf from a tangle in her hair.

"Great," she sighed, "Speak a word of this one, Jerro, and you'll regret it."

The farmer only laughed and handed her a comb.

"Did anyone see me?"

"No," she said, "Come on, let's get down to the docks. I have a feeling that I have an adventure to go on."


	25. Home, Boys, Home

They sailed at noon on the same sloop that they had taken into Highcliff Harbor. As luck would have it, Shandra rivaled Khelgar for her stomach's intolerance of the waves and the two of them bonded while doubled over the side of the ship. Adahni, trying to avoid that sailor, stuck fast to the paladin's side until they arrived back at the Sunken Flagon by the time the sun was setting. Two whole days lost, and all they had to show for it was a burly blond farmer girl who probably didn't know which end of the sword to hold.

Back at the Flagon, Duncan rushed up to her, demanding angrily where she had been for the past two days and why she hadn't told him where she was going. She waved him off, stating that he was not her father and she was a woman grown, and brushed past him to go to her room.

"Wait!" Duncan called, "I see you've brought someone new to my establishment. You ought to introduce us before you go along your way."

"Shandra, Duncan, Duncan, Shandra," Adahni called half-heartedly, but was beckoned back into the conversation by a pleading look from the farmer.

"Please, lass," Duncan said, stepping up the girl, "Come in, come in. Make yourself at home. This here is the Sunken Flagon, I own it - you'll be safe here. Grobnar! Play a tune or something, make the lady feel welcome."

"Wait, I thought we _weren't_asking Grobnar to play any more tunes," Neeshka called from her seat at the bar, "Remember that fight he started?"

"Hold your tongue, girl. Come on, Gnomehands, strike up a tune already!"

"Well the innkeeper certainly runs hot and cold," Shandra said, drawing close to Adahni and speaking lowly. Adahni noticed, to her chagrin that the farmer was more than a head taller than her.

"I'd keep out of arm's reach if I were you," Adahni said, "Come on, have a seat, we've things to discuss."

"Agreed," Shandra said, pulling up a chair to a nearby table. Adahni seated herself across from her, "What happened at my farm? Who were those creatures? And why were they after _me?_"

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't know everything," Adahni sight, rolling her eyes, "Can I ask you a few questions? Then I might have a fighting chance of answering yours."

The paladin, who had been standing by the fire, took the opportunity to seat himself beside the farmer. He put a gloved hand on her shoulder, "Shandra," he murmured, "We realize this is difficult, but your life may be in danger - and I swear to you, we are trying to protect you, not make more trouble for you."

"Oh, all right," Shandra sighed, "Guess the whole things hard to take all at once."

Neeshka, seeing that she was being left out, sat herself next to Adahni and whispered in her ear, "A little paladin charm sure calmed her quick."

Adahni smiled a little and nodded.

"But what could I know that's so important?" Shandra was whining.

"Are you familiar with an Ammon Jerro?" Adahni asked.

"Yeah, he was my grandfather. I heard he was an eccentric but humble wizard... and he's been in his grave for years. What's he got to do with this whole mess?"

"He had a Haven," Adahni said, "Know anything about that?"

"My mother told me about the Haven when I was a child. I thought it was just a tale she used to tell me to make me do my chores sometimes. She always threatened to lock me in there if I wasn't a good girl," Shandra said, smiling a little. Casavir's hand was still on her shoulder, Adahni observed, but at least it wasn't moving anywhere.

"Well, it's real," Adahni said. She suddenly wondered if all the things Daeghun had told her as a child were real, if there really was a four-headed dog who breathed flame that guarded the foot of the stairs and would fry her if she came down after her bed time, "And I need to find it."

"I have no idea where it is. Knowing its location wouldn't help you much anyway," Shandra said, "My mother said something about a... path you have to walk to get to it. Like a series of challenges, but I don't remember what they are. She also said getting into the Haven requires a pint of fresh blood. And not just any blood... Jerro blood."

Adahni coughed quietly into her shoulder.

"Wait... is _that _why you rescued me? So you could bleed me?""

"That was not our intention, Shandra," the paladin intoned, "Please... hear us out."

"Well if you think I'm going to some dark dungeon that used to give me nightmares, well... think again!"

"Fine, fine," Adahni said, "Can you at least give us a little more information? What else did your mother tell you about the Haven?"

"My mother said his Haven was like a hundred twisting corridors jumbled together into an inescapable labyrinth filled with beasts he'd summoned from the abyss. Or... something like that. I think she was exaggerating."

Adahni looked at Casavir. She tried to imitate the tone of voice he was using, obviously helped by whatever aura or glamour he had, "I can see why you have nightmares of this place."

"Perhaps it is just childhood stories, but even if I knew where the Haven was, it's the last place I'd want to go."

"What about the man himself?" Adahni asked. She calculated on her fingers. Shandra looked to be in her early thirties, if her mother had had her young, and her own father had been young, it was entirely possible that Ammon Jerro was still alive, though he'd be well into his seventies.

"I have no memory of meeting him. But my mother told me that he saw me a few times as a babe, but I was too young to remember. Mother said he would cradle me and sing to me, and I would pull out his beard hairs."

"Just keep your distance from me, lass," Khelgar called from across the room, putting a protective hand over his beard.

"Well," reasoned Adahni, "If Ammon Jerro was "eccentric but humble," it's not likely his Haven is a place to fear."

"Hmm... you know, I never thought of it that way. But look, I can barely think, let alone stand. I really need rest... we can talk about this tomorrow."

"Perhaps we should retire - we could all use the rest. Shandra, I believe Duncan has rooms upstairs," the paladin suggested.

"I do," Duncan said.

"Oh... uh, thanks for the hospitality... uh, Casavir, right? I appreciate it."

"Of course, you have been through a great deal, it is the least we can offer."

Adahni and Neeshka looked at each other.

"That I can offer, he means!" Duncan interjected, "My inn, you know, always eager to help a lass in distress, we are, here at the Sunken Flagon."

Without being asked, Qara showed Shandra up the stairs.

"Very classy, Duncan," Adahni said, rolling her eyes, "I guess Daeghun got all of the subtlety genes in the Farlong pool, eh?"

"Whatever are you talking about?" the half elf asked, "I am a perfect gentleman. Now go play something before the gnome decides to. A lady like that deserves a proper room with a proper bed, not one of those bunks, and those go for a pretty penny."

"And I deserve to pay for it?" Adahni asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Did we, or did we not, have an agreement?" Duncan asked, "I don't mind you going out of town for awhile, for whatever big adventures you might be having, but a Watchman's wage doesn't pay for the ale you drink or the bed you sleep in. And show a little more leg this time, it gets us bigger tips."

Adahni grew flushed in the face and was about to retort angrily that she saw none of those tips and thrice damned if she was going to expose herself any more just to fill her uncle's coffers. But she glanced around the room, and saw the two women there, the black roses of the Docks, and reasoned that it could be worse, it had been worse, and that she could swallow her temper for a few more nights. The whole fiasco would soon be over.

She picked up her trusty mandolin and tuned it. "Any suggestions?" she asked. Her eyes roamed the room. There were the regulars, the longshoreman, and the entire crew of the ship that had brought them to Neverwinter again. _Khelgar must have invited them._To her dismay, this crowd included her former client. Resolved not to show fear or anger again, she looked him in the eye, and asked him pointedly if he had any requests.

"A sea shanty," he said, winking at her. She was beginning to think that perhaps he actually had something wrong with his left eye and that all this winking was entirely involuntary.

"Don't you hear enough of those?" she asked.

"Not sung by a woman," he said.

"All right then," she said, "But give the ale wench an extra copper when she comes around."

"Done."

She plucked out a melody. She obviously had known a few sea shanties, working her old job. She settled on one that Mackrem Cullygan, the halfling pirate, had taught her. She played the melody a few times, and suddenly remembered the last time she had played it. It was a bigger mandolin, tuned an octave lower. She was practicing in her room while Kyla got herself ready. _He's asked me to call on him tonight at his house. Two months rent, he's paying me!_She set her jaw. Suddenly her throat was too clogged to sing. _Just think! The ambassador's house! He says she's out of town. Imagine seeing something like that and getting paid for it!_She looked down at her fingers and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. _Just have a potion ready for me in the morning, you know how he is, I'll probably be all banged up. I might be late... if I'm late, won't you check in on my brother? Make sure the fire's stoked?_

"Sing it, wench!" the sailor cried.

Adahni looked up. The firelight reflecting off her eyes, almost orange, must have made her look fierce indeed, because he shut his mouth immediately and went back to his ale.

"Fine, if that's what you want," she called, her voice thick.

_"Oh, well, who wouldn't be a sailor lad, a sailin' on the main,  
To gain the goodwill of his captain's good name  
A He came ashore, one evening for to be,  
And that was the beginning of my own true love and me,_

_Well I asked her for a candle for to light me up to bed,  
And likewise for a handkerchief to tie around me head,  
She tended to me needs like a young maid ought to do,  
So then I says to her, now won't you leap in with me too_

_Well she jumped into bed, making no alarm,  
Thinking a young sailor lad could do to her no harm.  
Well I hugged her and I kissed her the whole night long,  
Till she wished the short night had been nine years long_

_Oh come all of you fair maidens, a warning take by me,  
And never let a sailor lad an inch above your knee,  
For I trusted one and he beguiled me  
He left me with a pair of twins to dangle on me knee!"_

With the end of the song, she stopped singing and segued into a reel. She set her jaw and stared into the fire, just letting her fingers do what they knew how to do without thinking about it.

_You know how he is. I'll probably be all banged up._

She had been so excited just to be let into the fancy district. She'd had her best gown on, and tucked the black rose into her auburn hair.

_Just check in on my brother for me, won't you?_

At the end of the reel, Adahni put down the mandolin and, without a word, left the barroom and went back to her chamber. She gritted her teeth, and stared up at the ceiling. It was going to be a long night.

_If something happens to me, would you look out for him?_


	26. A Promise Broken

_Five Years Ago, Luskan_

* * *

They found Kyla's body caught under one of the wharves. She had not been dead long, and the frozen winter waters had kept her from rotting. Adahni watched from the window as two watchmen hauled her body ashore roughly and gagged as she saw the dead woman's head loll on her shoulders. The bastard had beaten her bloody and broken her neck. She felt a cold dread settle into her stomach that froze her to the very bone and would not let her cry. It wasn't as though murdered corpses were in short supply down by the Luskan docks. The ground was too hard for her to be buried, they'd leave her there by the shore until either someone claimed the body, or two days had passed, and then they'd cremate the body and scatter the ashes over the sea.

She sat still at the window, torn between running down there and telling the watchman who the body was so they could get rid of that broken shell, and not wanting to face the idea of it, not wanting to look any closer at the poor girl's empty face. She stared out of the window, paralyzed with her mind running in five separate directions, when there was a bang on the door.

Dayven swept into the room and put his arms around her shoulders. His face was sober, "Addie... Addie, we have to go tell them who it is so they don't leave her out there."

Adahni nodded, silently. That bastard, that horrible bastard. Getting his thrills from beating women like that. What had she done? Given him too much lip? Or had he simply had enough of her and decided to snap her neck and toss her in the river instead of paying her and letting her leave? _How many of us are going to die before he's satisfied his lust?_

"Addie! Grieve later. Go and find him, make sure he doesn't see her like that."

"Who?"

"Her brother, stupid. Honestly!" Dayven said exasperated.

Numbly, Adahni dragged herself up and followed Dayven down the stairs into the barroom of the Cuckoo's nest. It was early morning, and Kath was not yet awake. There were a few drunks slumbering by the fireplace, and the two stepped carefully over them and out into the frigid dawn. Adahni was careful not to look as she turned right and headed up the hill and inland towards the house

She found the door unbolted and walked in. The fire was dying in the hearth and the chinks around the windowframe let in the winter wind. The boy was curled up by the fireplace, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was small for his age, and pale, his lips purple with cold. Spoiled thing was all of fourteen and hadn't learned the simple task of keeping a fire going. In the two years or so since she'd seen him, he'd grown, but he was still small for his age, could have passed for a child of nine or ten. Adahni finally felt the tears spring to her eyes for the poor urchin. Kyla had taken good care of him, she saw this by the quality of the blankets that covered him and the quantity of coal that had been laid there for his use while Kyla worked at night. A stack of books, with fine quill pens and scrolls of parchment, sat on a desk. This was a child who, in spite of his guardian's line of work, had not wanted for much. He'd not even known how to bank the fire at night when she didn't arrive...

Adahni sat down next to him and covered him in her cloak. There she sat for an hour or two, her teeth chattering, waiting for him to wake up. _He won't sleep untroubled like this again_, she thought, _might as well let him rest while he can._ While she waited, her mind wandered, her grief turned into anger, and she knew what she would have to do. Once a man got away with killing a prostitute, he'd try it again, and then the rest of the johns would get bolder. She'd dealt with it on a minor level. She and two of the other whores had cornered a john who refused to pay and beaten him until he coughed up twice what he owed. One john had slapped a girl when he hadn't been given permission to, and she and four others had hunted him down, stripped him naked, and made him walk home in the snow in that condition. Claven was different, though. Claven was a noble. Justice administered by a group of whores from the Cuckoo's Nest would be met with swift retribution from his household. On the one hand, taking care of him would be dangerous. On the other, none of them would be safe if Claven didn't pay for what he had done.

The boy finally awoke when a wan finger of sunlight fell across his face. He opened his eyes, and jumped to his feet when he saw Adahni.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His voice hadn't changed yet, which made the fear in it all the more pitiable.

"It's me, Addie," she said, "You remember me, right?"

"Where's Kyla? Why didn't she come home yesterday?"

"Lad, you're going to want to sit down."

"No!" he howled, his eyes going wide. They were amber, like Kyla's, and looked very large in his thin face.

"Your sister's been killed," she said.

He froze, and sat down again.

"Killed? By who? Where is he?"

"I don't know," Adahni lied. The last thing the kid needed was to go pounding on the ambassador's door, ready to run a knife through her husband. He'd be hung in a gibbet cage faster than she could snap her fingers.

"Who did it?" the child demanded again, "You have to tell me!"

"I told you I don't know," she said.

"Damn you!" he cursed, looking around the room, his eyes wild, "I swear by all the gods I will cut your throat if you don't tell me!"

She was taken aback at his outburst, and was even more so when he took a swing at her. She was glad that he was such a scrawny thing as she caught his arm in the air. "It wasn't me," she said, "It was a bad man that she worked for, and don't worry, I'll make sure he's taken care of."

"Don't fucking patronize me," the boy said, his voice cracking, his nostrils flaring and his breath coming in strangled gasps, "Tell me what his name is."

"I'm not going to tell you," snapped Adahni, letting his arm go, "Because if I do then you'll do what all men do and try to run him through with a sword in broad daylight in full view of the city guards! I told her that if anything happened, I'd make sure you were taken care of, and having you rot away in a Luskan dungeon wouldn't exactly be fulfilling my promise."

They stood there at an uneasy detente for a few seconds, staring at each other until they were interrupted by Dayven coming in the back gate. He sat down next to Adahni. "He knows?"

"Yeah," Adahni said.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, lad," Dayven said, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Go fuck yourself," the boy retorted, "Who did this to her? Who killed my sister?"

"You've got quite a mouth oh you," Dayven commented, "How old are you?"

"I'll be fourteen in the Spring," he replied.

"Can you stay here by yourself for now?" Dayven asked, "I can have Addie stay here with you."

Kyrwan opened his mouth to say that he wasn't a baby, but closed it again and just nodded. Dayven hurried out again, and Adahni and the boy sat there, staring at each other, not saying anything.

"You know who did it, don't you," he asked, his voice husky.

She didn't say anything, but stared out the window. They'd removed the body.

"What do I do now?" he asked.

"You'll get an apprenticeship, and you'll learn a trade. Something respectable, so you don't wind up like me," Adahni said. She almost said "like her" but realized it was probably a cruel thing to say to the boy."

The boy scrunched up his nose, "I don't want to be a blacksmith."

"So be a weaver. Or you can sign on with the guard, or one of the militias."

"I'll go back to Barnslow," he said.

"Have you been under a rock, kid?" she asked brusquely, "There's a war going on. Believe me, there's nothing I'd like better than to go home, but the roads are blocked. It's too dangerous."

"I could do it. I'm good at hiding, and I walk real quiet."

"Well you do whatever you want, since you're such a big man," she said, trying to tease the fear out of his eyes.

"It's not fair," he cried, "First she takes me away from all my friends, and now she leaves me here!" He burst into tears, hiding his head in his arms.

"She took you away for your own good," Adahni said gently, "She loved you."

"My da wasn't so bad," he said, "I could take him now, I know I could. And now she's gone, and I'm stuck here in Luskan of all places."

"You and I aren't so different," she said.

"I don't want to stay here."

"Listen," she said, "I'm going to make you a promise, just like I made her a promise."

"Promise me you'll let me kill him," Kyrwan said, the expression on his face level, his amber eyes clear. He looked suddenly older, the tears on his cheeks only serve to heighten this effect, "Please."

"It's not that simple, lad," she replied.

"Why not?" he asked, "He didn't have any reason to kill her. He'll do it again."

"No he won't," she said, "I'm going to make sure of that."

"What about the assassin's guild?" he asked, "You said that I should get an apprenticeship, what if I join up with the Circle of Blades? Then I'd be really good at killing, and nobody could catch me."

"Even assassins sometimes get caught," she replied.

"I want to be an assassin," he repeated.

Personally, Adahni felt that it was probably a bad move for the kid. The pay was lousy and being turned into a cold blooded killer was most certainly not what poor Kyla had had in mind for him. But if she was going to do what she planned on doing, she couldn't do it with the liability of a young ward to keep out of trouble. She fully expected to hang from the gallows before the year was out, and didn't want the kid to get attached to her. Dayven could be brutish and cruel, but it was Luskan, and the sooner the child knew cruelty the less he would be hurt in the long run. In spite of it all, Dayven mixed it with a few bouts of tenderness, more than Adahni could have given. And it was time for the child to grow up anyway.

She went to the fire and fed it, coaxing the flames into a merry blaze. Kyrwan inched up to it and warmed his hands. Instinctively, but gingerly, Adahni put an arm around his shoulder, rubbing it briskly to warm him. At first she thought he was shivering with cold, but when she looked, he was crying again. He was too old for this. He'd have to learn not to cry, not even at moments like these, he'd have to learn to set his jaw and bear it, or to throw a punch or a knife at the appropriate party. All this went through her head, but she said nothing, and just held him tightly. Let him have a few more hours of childhood and comfort.

"Listen," she said when his noisy sobs had abated, "The man who was just here was also a friend of your sister's."

"Yeah, Dayven," he sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of one pale hand, "I know him. He brought me to the Assassin's Guild once. They had to blindfold me on the way there." _So the Circle of Blades already has their eye on him. No wonder Dayven had gotten so close to Kyla. They were after the boy all along._

"He's my husband," she said, "I'll put in a good word with you, but you can't let him see you crying. He hates that, even in me, and I'm a girl."

"All right," he said, wiping his cheeks, "I think I can stop for now."

"There's a good lad," she said, taking her thumb and drying the wet spots under his eyes, "Grimace and bear it, things will get better eventually." _No they won't. But you'll stop feeling it like you do now._

He nodded, and sniffled, but kept his head up.

Dayven returned within the hour, two of his black-hooded compatriots flanking him.

"I want to be an assassin," said Kyrwan, looking bravely up at the guild members.

"I was hoping you'd say something like that," Dayven said, "We've been watching you for some time now. I had hoped this day would come later, and under better circumstances, but as of right now you need a home, someone to watch your back, and that's what I can offer you...what's your name again?"

"Kyrwan," he replied, scrunching up his nose and making a show of masculinity, "I don't like it, it sounds like a girl's name."

"That's all right," Dayven said, "What's your last name?"

"Bishop."

"Very well then, young Master Bishop, come with us. You'll be taken care of."


	27. Debts

It was not a long night. Adahni lay there, staring at the ceiling, for not more than an hour when Duncan's voice echoed through the hallway outside her room. "Alarm!" he cried, his voice getting louder, and then getting softer, and then louder again as the door to Adahni's chamber was kicked open by the booted foot of one of those damned githyanki. She was suddenly glad that she had decided to lie down, chain mail and all, without undressing. Her rapier was on the nightstand, which she knocked over in her haste to grab her weapon.

The gith just looked at her in amusement, waiting for her to strike first, "_Kalach...cha,_" he hissed malevolently. She jumped out of bed with a fierce cry (which brought forth a bit of uncontrolled flame) and sank her blade into the gith's arm. He pulled away with a smile and struck at her once, twice, with a sword twice the size of her own. She parried twice, but was knocked to the floor. The gith put his foot on her throat. She squirmed and wriggled and struck again and again at his leg, but his boots were plated and sound and he would not budge.

The view of the ceiling grew fuzzy around the edges of her vision and she knew that soon she would go limp and unconscious and then slowly her life would drift away like vapor out of a boiling kettle. _What an embarassing way to die, _she thought.

Her morbid thought was interrupted by a shower of liquid. The pressure on her throat let up, and she saw the githyanki warrior fall to his knees, and then backwards onto the ground. Someone had shot him with an nasty-looking arrow.

She wiped the blood off of her face and spat her disgust onto the corpse. Her throat felt as though it has been crushed, but she was able to breathe normally, despite what she imagined would be a boot-shaped bruise.

When she looked up, she saw the Luskan-looking chap who had brought the tobacco. His nose had returned to its normal shape by now and hardly a trace of the beating she'd given him the month before remained. He looked at her a minute as she nodded her thanks, and then went back into the bar room.

She followed him and found a full-scale battle going on. Drunken sailors and longshoremen were heaving chairs and tankards, a few of them slashing about with broken bottles. Two of the watchmen who drank there regularly had been wounded and were hiding behind an overturned table in the corner of the room.

"Oh good, I thought you'd never show up," Duncan called to her. He was wielding a butcher's cleaver and hacking left and right with agility that Adahni would have never imagined that he had. _He must have been a warrior once. _"I feel a little better about the survival of my barroom now."

She ducked a blow and thrust her rapier into the belly of one of the last remaining giths. When it became apparent that there were none left, the sailors started laying into each other, until Khelgar whacked the flat of his axe on a chair, making a thunderous clap that shut everyone up. She looked around. Qara, with flames still playing about her fingertips, had begun setting the room to rights. Elanee was in the corner, playing with her pet badger, trying to coax it into letting her heal a small wound on his head. Neeshka was nursing a jammed finger. Casavir was trying to help a wounded watchman and... "Where's Shandra?" she asked.

There was silence.

"You mean nobody bothered to go check on her, even though we just spent the last two days getting her _away_ from the gith?" she asked.

"Well I didn't see _you_ looking," commented Khelgar.

"I just spent the last five minutes with a boot on my windpipe," Adahni said, "Do you think they killed her?"

"No," Elanee said, "You said that they needed Jerro blood to go the Haven."

"You were listening?" Adahni asked, looking over at the druid.

"If they killed her, the blood would stagnate," Elanee said, "If going to the Haven is what they want, then they have to keep her alive." The elf got up and added, ominously, "At least until they find it."  
"She's been taken?" Duncan exclaimed, "How in the hells did those githyanki get into the city?" He sat himself on a chair. The chair, unfortunately, had lost a leg which an enraged sailor had been using as a club, and he promptly fell over on his back. Adahni saw the Luskan-looking fellow approach him and looked down at him.  
"Does that matter? You'd best hurry if you want to get her back," he said.

"Well, then, do you have something to say to me?" asked the innkeeper looking up.

"No," he replied, "But look at her." He looked up at Adahni and walked over to her. Without asking, he seized her chin in one rough hand and forced her head up. She batted his hand away from her with a snarl, but not before he had pinched a section of her neck where black bruise was forming, and pulled something from her flesh. To her disgust, he sniffed it, and walked back over to the innkeeper, "They're going north, into Luskan territory. Look, your niece over there had a splinter from Duskwood in her neck from the gith's boot."

"Thanks," she muttered, rubbing her throat. There was _definitely _something familiar about this one. He wasn't an extraordinary looking man, but she could not shake the feeling that she knew him. She must have been staring, because the paladin had to clear his throat before she noticed him offering her a healing potion. She drank it down silently.

"Well that's your territory, isn't it, Bishop?" Duncan commented. He was still sprawled on the ground.

As the pain in her throat receded, Adahni's stomach sank low. _Of course it's him, who else could it be? _The thin cheeks were now full and covered in thick stubble, the eyes were sunken and saddened, the hair had been cropped short, and the voice had dropped to a raspy baritone, but it was him. The little boy who had cried into her shoulder so many years before, that she had allowed Dayven to take. She felt her cheeks grow red with shame at the thought of how she had abandoned him to the hands of the assassin's guild. No wonder he'd grown up into the kind of jerk who went looking for wenches at local brothels. _Stop it, Addie, none of this is your fault. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But gods, he's gotten big. How old must he be by now? Eighteen? Nineteen? What is he even doing here? _She consciously looked on the ground, avoiding his gaze and wondering if he had recognized her_._

"Well yes," he was saying, "But it's not my problem. I'm not putting my ass on the line to save some farmer, and certainly not with any of your stinking family."

"It's all right," Adahni mumbled, not wanting to look up at him, "We don't need him."

"I won't hear of it," Duncan said, scrambling to his feet, "Luskan territory is dangerous, especially for someone who's never been there."

"It's fine," she insisted, glaring at her uncle, "He doesn't need to come."

"Oh, he's coming," Duncan said, "Whether he likes it or not..."

She saw Ky - Bishop look up sharply at the half-elf, "Calling it due, are you, Farlong?" he asked, his voice taking on a weight to heavy for his age.

"A woman's life is at stake," Duncan said.

"No," insisted Adahni. She wanted to be as far away from him as she could, whatever that might mean, "I'm serious, he doesn't have to come."

"Fine," the ranger agreed, looking at her. Apparently making her uncomfortable had made him change his mine, "We'll leave immediately. Such a small price to rid myself of you, Farlong." He brushed past the innkeeper and went back into the dormitory, presumably to grab his things. Adahni sat down heavily on the chair, forgetting about the broken leg. She found herself much where her uncle had been a few moments before._ What is he doing here_?

"Who in the hells is he?" she asked her uncle, not bothering to get up.

"I don't really know," he replied, "I helped him out of a jam once. Bishop was the only name he'd give me, and he owes me his life."

"And why is it that you're discharging such a debt for my sake?"

"Because," Duncan said, "I owe you and your father a debt as well."

"Do you," she said.

"I know more than you think I do," the half elf sighed, "But that's a matter for another time. Get your things together, you had better hit the trail before the moon goes down." She got up and went to her room. She heard loud, clomping footsteps behind her.

"My lady!" the paladin's voice called.

"Yes?" she asked, popping her head back out. She was busy fastening her sword belt.

"I don't like the looks of that one," he said, his dark eyebrows lowering over his pale eyes, "I don't trust him. And I don't like the way he looks at you."

"Good thing I have you to protect me, then," she said, grinning up at him, "You aren't too tired to come along on this one, are you?"

"I wouldn't dream of leaving you, or any of the other women, alone with him."

"We won't be," Adahni said, "We're leaving them to guard the home front."

The paladin raised his eyebrows, "And why is that?"

"Elanee is the only one of them who can move at an acceptable speed," Adahni said, "Neeshka is always getting into things, and Qara is just slow. And I don't know how this Bishop character is as a fighter; I would rather have a solid axe at my side than all the wispy little spells in the world."

"I see your reasoning," the paladin said, "And concur."

"Besides," she said, grinning, "I can take care of myself."

The paladin left to return to his room and pack his things. As if on cue, the ranger, Bishop, reappeared, striding down the hallway. They locked eyes this time, yellow on pale brown. She kept her expression steady. He was the first to break the gaze this time.

"Fancy meeting you here," she mumbled as he past.

"I'm sorry," he said, sardonically, and turned, "Do I know you?"

"No," she said. She reached out and grabbed ahold of his collar as he walked by, yanking him down so that he was at eye level with her, "You don't."

"A woman after my own heart," he said, batting her hand away as though it were a ball of yarn and he a particularly ferocious kitten, "Can't we skip this and get straight to the the action?"

"I see we have an understanding then," she said.

He nodded. "Now hurry up, the sooner this is over, the sooner I'm a free man. And that's all anyone can really ask for."

She nodded.

"What was that about?" asked Neeshka. Adahni jumped, and saw that the tiefling had snuck up behind her, as she was wont to do.

"Nothing," she replied, "I thought he was someone else." She grinned at the tiefling's befuddlement, "You don't mind staying here, do you?"

"Of course not!" the tiefling exclaimed, "I was afraid you were going to make me come with, and if you'd done that I would have missed robbing all the merchant ships set to dock this week."

"OK, well when I return, I expect you to be a rich woman and buy me a beer," she said.

"Watch your back around that one," Neeshka said, nodding at the retreating ranger, "I've watched him, the last month or so. He's bad news."

"I didn't need you to tell me that," Adahni replied.

* * *

The four of them set out from Neverwinter along the ill-kept trail which lead to the Luskan border. They had only gone a few miles when the moon had dipped dangerously close to the horizon. The terrain was not unlike that in the Sword Mountains, dry moorlands spread out like quilts under high mountains. The ranger lead them at a breakneck speed, and Adahni was glad that she had brought the companions she had. When the moon was almost down, he guided them to a stand of pines high atop a ridge.

"We'll be difficult to see up here, and more difficult to track," he said, "Now I hope someone thought to bring a tent."

Adahni unstrapped the tent from her pack and tossed it at him.They made short work of setting it up. The ranger then made a great show of setting up a little house-like structure of dry twigs and firewood and was fiddling with flint and tinder trying to get the thing to light. Adahni walked up behind him and, disdainfully, blew a blast of flame out of her mouth and set the little mound alight.

"Are you always this much of a show-off?" he asked, glaring up at her.

"Yes," she replied. The dwarf had gone off to relieve himself and the paladin was oiling the joints in his armor with his back to them.

"What do you go by these days, anyway?"

"Addie," she said, "Why, you're being downright civil, Princess. Let me get you a medal."

"Don't fucking patronize me," he replied, staring into the flames. She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it.

"Let the paladin have first watch," she said, "We're going to try and segregate the tent as best we can, and the means if anybody comes without a foot of me while im out, they're going to get a hole in a very uncomfortable place."

The ranger nodded, "Does that go for all of us?"

"Just you," she said, smiling, "You won't find any brothels or wenches out here, and I don't imagine Khelgar or I would very much like being treated like one."

He nodded again, evidently out of witty things to say. She stripped off her chainmail and set it by the fire, covering it in green pine branches to keep it dry. Having metal in the tent during the chill of early winter only served to make waking up a greater ordeal than it ought to be.

To her surprise, the night passed uneventfully. Casavir woke her gently to take her watch, and she in turn woke the dwarf. The ranger remained silent for most of the next day as they jogged over hill and dale. He never seemed to tire, that one, Adahni thought, not even when they came to the ruined hulk of Barnslow, the charred remains of the village covered in leafless vines. Adahni had no desire to stay there, and evidently neither did the ranger. It was Casavir who insisted they stop.

"You know this village," he said to Adahni.

"Yes," she said, "And if it were my choice I would not see it like this."

"Luskans burned it," Casavir said, looking pointedly at the ranger, who refused to make eye contact. Instead, he looked away and spat on the ground where once the burned corpse of a small child had lain, "We must pay our respects."

"Have fun with that," Bishop scoffed, and turned his back on the paladin. Adahni saw a flush of anger raise in Casavir's cheeks, but she put a hand on his elbow to shush him. He looked at her as if to say 'all right, fine,' like a cheeky teenager, and went to what had once been the village center to pray.

Adahni looked around, seeing where the inn had been. The boards that had been red hot were in a pile in a pit in the ground that had once been a basement where she and a young man had lain together in the drunken fervor of an autumn night. She saw the house that she had taken refuge in, its skeletal remains standing starkly against the wan winter sunlight.

She found the ranger standing in the burnt out hulk of a barn. The hayloft still stood, with a charred ladder leading up to it. The beams were intact, great hunks of maple that withstood even the hottest of blazes. He was standing on the frosted leaves in what had been the barn floor and staring upwards. She followed his gaze to where a charred hunk of rope hung from a beam. She wondered what was going through his head, but then thought better of it. She didn't want to know, it was probably bloody and nasty and nothing she wanted to pollute her thoughts with.

They spent that night in the tent at the bottom of a gully a few miles from where Barnslow had been. Adahni slept fitfully, thrashing about against the wall of the tent, imagining herself engulfed in flames, seeing Jem's face against the roaring wall of fire. She woke up before dawn, realizing to her chagrin that, in the night, she rolled over until her head was on the paladin's chest. He either didn't notice, or pretended not to.


	28. Leverage

On the third day, they reached a village, this one intact. They were about to enter the little perimeter of houses when the ranger stopped them.

"Hold on... something isn't right," the ranger said.

"Quiet day," the dwarf commented.

"You're right," Adahni said, "Ain't nobody here."

"Now you're learning," he commented, "Good. Keep listening to me, and you might stay alive."

"Well that's a little dramatic," she said, rolling her eyes.

"But it's not just the villagers - where are the livestock? They didn't take them all to market, trust me. We're on the trail of our friends, though. They're moving fast, but it looks like we've closed in a bit."

"Should we see what happens here, then?" she asked.

"You're being a little cautious," the ranger said. She looked at him oddly. His voice had taken on the quality of a teacher, with a muted respect for his student, but the edge of disdain still remained. "I don't normally care ofr that, but here, I think you're right. Keep your eyes open and your weapon handy... I smell an ambush."

Adahni drew her rapier with a hiss and proceeded into the village, her eyes darting about. "Oy!" she called, standing at the center of the village, beside a large, covered well. "If you've got something to say to me, you githyanki bastards, I'd rather you said it to my face!"

The paladin moved forward to stop her, but before he could reach her side, dozens of gith poured out of the houses. Khelgar, with a raucous cry, hurled himself into the thick of it, laying about like an irate grandmother with a flyswatter. Adahni froze and let the waves of foes come at her. She parried and feinted, ducked and dodged. The tide of githyanki crashed over her like a wave on a windy day, but like a wave, she was able to regain her footing after a few moments, only a little worse for wear.

Then the arrows started, whistling by her ears. One struck her in the breast, only going a few millimeters in before the chainmail started. She tore it loose, and saw the fear in the githyankis' black eyes. They thought that she would have been felled by that arrow, and here she was, ripping it from her breast and casting it aside. She screamed her fury at them, letting loose a bout of flame. The remaining gith fell to the grass, writhing as the fire consumed them.

"Well, if anyone was wondering what sort of equipment our leader is packing in her breeches," Bishop commented, "There's two of them and they're made of brass. I can't tell if you're incredibly brave, or just stupid and lucky."

"Nice ambush," Khelgar sighed. He wiped the blood from his brow.

"Decent effort," Bishop corrected him, "Sloppy execution. It might even had worked if I hand't been here."

Adahni raised her eyebrows at him incredulously, and pointed to the small band of gith that were in the process of sneaking up behind his back. He whirled and nocked an arrow to his bow. The paladin and dwarf rushed in, evidently not satisfied with the number of enemies Adahni had left them in the last bout. They dispatched all but two, which Bishop skewered on his nasty barbed arrows.

"They left a large force in this village... which means it'll be easier on us when we catch up to the others - as long as we catch them before they go to ground."

"If their forces are divided, good - but that means the remainder will travel faster, and the trail will be harder to follow," she said. The githyanki were certainly expending a lot of lives in order to take this one person. Whatever was in the Haven must be important indeed.

"Eh?" the ranger said, "Well aren't you a bright ray of hope."

Casavir, who had been looking rather peeved all day, now looked as though he were about to explode. Instead of doing so, he took a breath, and said, calmly and collectedly, "She was just pointing out the realities of the situation."

"I suggest you rein in that attitude of yours, paladin - what, you think our leader can't speak for herself?"

"It - it was not my intention to speak for her," the paladin said, flustered.

"Then don't," commanded the ranger, "And maybe next time you'll sound convincing. What I was _going _to say is our leader is right... and what's more, our friends won't be leaving an obvious trail this time, since they don't have the men to bait any more ambushes."

"Then let's stop wasting our time here, and move," she said coldly. She wiped her blade on the ground and sheathed it.

"Fine by me," the ranger agreed, casting about, "Let's leave this worthless village behind -"

He was interrupted by a flash of yellow hair. It was a blond, for sure, but not the blond they were hunting. This one was older, clad in the leather pants and jerkin of a blacksmith. "Forgive me," she said, "You... you're hunting a woman? Shandra Jerro?"

"Yes," Adahni said.

"Those creatures, we heard her screaming as they were carrying her off - I tried to call out to her but... I didn't realize they had her at first, but she makes a merchant run through Ember and Port Llast during harvest season. We hadn't seen her yet this year, though, and - sorry. Where are my manners? I am Alaine. Please, I saw the beasts taking her to the mountains to the north and east - they barely have an hour on your, but they were moving fast. And thank you for saving us from those creatures. I can't th-"

"You've done enough," Adahni said, raising a hand, "Thanks for letting them ambush us. It's most appreciated. Now we must be going."

"She has a point," Bishop added, "Next time, fight. Or you'll die."

"Not if I am here, ranger," the paladin intoned, "Should you or anyone else forsake them."

Adahni felt as though she were about to be involved in a major philosophical battle that she was not particularly interested in. On the one hand, she did admire the paladin, and would have probably said or done anything to ensure that he still respected and liked her. On the other, deep down in her very deepest downest place, she found herself agreeing with the ranger almost all of the time. It was as though Casavir was what she would like the world to be, but Bishop dealt with things in the dark reality that was there.

"You can't be everywhere, paladin," Bishop replied, "And sometimes, defending the weak just keeps them weak. Now, can we go without more mewling dogs getting in our way? Every moment we wait, the trail gets colder."

The blond girl burst into tears and ran away. Casavir wanted to go after her.

"Shandra," Adahni reminded him, putting a hand on his arm. He nodded his begrudging agreement.

The path lead out of the village to the north, the entire scene still completely empty. Except, Adahni saw, for a small boy, maybe six or seven years old. He was standing silently outside a woodshed. All in all, he looked very creepy indeed.

"It's you," he said, "You're the one who will destroy Ember." His voice was a high, clear monotone. Adahni felt the cold chills running up her spine.

"I've never even been here before," she said.

"Wait... no," he said, "I was mistaken. Strange... the killer looks like you, but isn't."

"Yeah, must be my evil twin Inhada," she said, "Got to stop letting her run around."

"Ember cannot be saved," the boy said, "All within the village when the time comes will perish. Except one - me. I think you are carrying something which will allow me to survive. You cannot help me in any other way."

"Is this some beggars game?" asked Adahni suspiciously.

"Ember's fate is set in stone, but mine is not. However, I will share Ember's fate unless you help me."

"Very well," Adahni said, "Have a look, then."

"Thank you," the boy said, taking a perfunctory peak into her proferred pack. "You have nothing I can use - what about him?" He pointed a small, pale finger at the ranger.

"What about me?"

"Bishop, let him have a look," Adahni insisted.

"Fine," the ranger said, "Try to take anything, and I'll take both your hands as trophies. Got it?"

"Your knife - it is... different. I believe it can save me," the boy said.

"My skinning knife?" Bishop said, looking down at the small piece of steel, "I've had this thing forever, there's nothing special about it."

"Then you won't mind parting with it," Adahni reasoned.

"Yes I will. Unless it's going between his eyes, it's staying with me," the ranger insisted.

"You know," she said, raising her eyes to him appealingly, "There's bound to be a whole lot of treasure wherever we're going. Seeing as you're just the hired help, I don't see you getting any of it. Unless, of course, you were to do a small favor. For me."

"Fine," Bishop conceded, "But I'm not going to forget this, or how much you owe me."

"Thank you," the boy said. He fingered the knife, "We shall meet again soon, I think."

* * *

That night they camped just after the moon went down, atop another ridge. Adahni took the first watch. To the northwest, Adahni thought she could just make out the outline of Luskan, spanning the delta at the river's mouth. She smoked, more than she usually did, keeping that little glimmering mass in her eyesight.

"Care you share some of that?" she heard the ranger's voice behind her.

"You smuggled it," she said, and tossed the pouch over her shoulder.

"It's good stuff," he said. He produced a small ivory pipe and filled the bowl, "Light?"

She turned her head toward him and blew a small blast of flame. He put the stem in his mouth and drew on it hungrily, "So do you think we'll get there by tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes, I think we will, provided your stubby-legged friend hurries up," the ranger siad.

"What was the debt?" she asked, looking back at Luskan.

"No business of yours, Farlong," he growled, taking another pull from his pipe.

"Farishta," she said.

"Whatever. What do I care? A week or so from now, I'll be gone and it will be as though we never met," he said.

"Where will you go?"

"Away," he said, "I could go hang myself from a tree, as far as anybody cares, least of all you."

"The poor tree," she commented. He was getting dangerously close to acknowledging that they had met, known each other even. She tossed the smoldering end of her smoke on the ground and stomped it under one boot.

"Sleep well," he said as she crawled into the tent.

* * *

The next day took them high into the mountains. If the githyanki had not been so obsessed with guarding their little hideaway, they probably would not have found it. However, meeting patrol after githyanki patrol along one particular stretch of mountain trail indicated to all of them, thought Bishop was the only one to point it out, that this must be the right way.  
At the end of the trail was a yawning mouth of a cave. Adahni was not feeling particularly brave, and so let the dwarf go in first.

Unlike the orc lairs, it was not very large; the caverns seemed to go only a little way into the mountains.

"Zeeaire has foretold your coming, Kalach-Cha. She sent me here to end you," the voice was raspy and thin, eching around the walls of the cave. It belonged to a greenish fellow with a sad excuse for a goatee, who seemed to be leading a band of crossbowmen.

"I'm surprised you're talking to me. Most gith just grunt."

"Slay her! For Zeeaire!" the bearded one shouted, echoed by his companions.

"Wait! Wait!" called a thin, piercing little voice from deeper in the caves. A puny little one ran up to them, his sword waving in the air. "There is a problem!"

"Handle it," the one with the beard replied, "I am not finished here."

Adahni really was unsure why this band of gith anticipated this battle ending any more favorably to them than the last three. She supposed that they could have thought that perhaps the companions would get tired, or just sick of each other each to turn on each other. Either way, she marveled at and admired their persistence, even as she and her companions cut every single one of them down.

The cave was lit by great burning braziers of the sort she had seen in the tombs of the civilized world, but aside from them, there was nothing to indicate that they were in anything but an entirely natural formation. Except, of course, for the human who stood at the end of the corridor, the behemoth demon hovering beside him, and the barely-clad succubus at his side.

"Friend of yours?" asked Khelgar.

"What's with his head?" Adahni wondered out loud. His skull itself seemed to be cracked in interesting patterns which glowed in the dark of the cave as though there were a candle where his brain ought to be.

"...as for these newcomers," they heard him say, "Deal with them."

Adahni half expected him to disappear in a whiff of brimstone, but instead he just ran off deeper into the caves, leaving the companions to deal with the succubi. Adahni suddenly regretted bringing so many men along. She seemed to be the only one of the four that did not show any qualms about killing them. "Now what do you suppose his game is?" she called, running her rapier through a succubus's supple throat.

"Making a man very uncomfortable in armor," the ranger retorted, nocking another arrow to his bow.

"Well played, ranger," she said, giggling.

"Left or right?" asked Khelgar.

"Pardon?" Adahni asked, dealing the decisive blow to the final succubus.

"It forks," the dwarf grunted.

"Right," Adahni said, and took off down the righthand corridor. It was shorter than the earlier one, and at the end was a familiar sight. The huge wrought-iron golem that had popped into existence at the warehouse in Neverwinter was waiting for them. Two succubi stood in front of it, but it was unmistakable.

"Am I drunk?" asked Khelgar, "Or is that real?"

"Same thing," Adahni said.

"I can still smell the stench of its creator on its surface, running deep into the ore. Why would that gith keep such a thing, as broken as it is? We should tear it apart, see if its limbs twitch when we reave them from the body."

"Oh shut up," Adahni said, "It's not even alive."

"Looks like one victim has drawn others!" the succubus exclaimed, drawing her breath through her teeth in a manner which Adahni imagined she thought was sexy. The paladin fell upon the demon women, followed closely by the dwarf and the bard. It was not long before they were banished to the realms from whence they came.

"Anything being torn apart by a demon is an ally in my book," the ranger said. He had had an arrow at his bow string, but he lowered his weapon and tucked it back into his quiver.

"You've never seen a construct? Don't have much appreciation for magic, but you have to admire the workmanship here. It looks to be made of solid stell. Oh, and stay clear of those bladed appendages, they look sharp," the dwarf said reproachfully.

"We fought this in Neverwinter, remember?" Adahni asked, "It fled through a portal."

"Obviously this thing wasn't on the gith's side," Bishop observed, "Whatever it was - or those demons. Which means there's someone else tracking our movements. How many enemies do you have, anyway? There's almost more than I can count."

"There's a surprise," Khelgar muttered.

"Watch it," the ranger warned.

"Or what?" Khelgar asked, puffing up his chest.

"Point taken," the ranger said, "But you know, seems to me this thing could be worth some coin."

"So could your mouth," Adahni said, "But I'm not in the business of selling such things. But I concur that it could be useful. We'll come back for it and haul it off after we find the farmer."

They turned back and took the path that they had eschewed before, which lead them deeper into the mountain, where a door was affixed to a hole in the wall of the corridor. What they found inside was a magnificent room. Intead of the roughhewn stone walls of the caves outside, this room had been cut into the heart of the mountain with a great deal of skill and care. The walls were inlaid with smooth stones that must have been quarried from elsewhere; they did not resemble the rock of the mountain. The floors were smooth flagstones instead of the sandy cave floor over which they had just come.

"Look," the paladin murmured.

She looked up to see two more succubi, standing guard over what looked to be a wizened old man... only he had horns and wings.

"A devil," Casavir said. She would have expected him to pronounce the name of a creature from the lower realms with a certain amount of disdain, but in his voice was only awe and respect. He approached them cautiously, and she followed.

"They have him trapped," she observed, "What should we do?"

She would not wonder this for long as one of the succubi turned, hatred in her green eyes, and struck out with one long-nailed hand. "

"All right, then," she sighed, and drew her weapon again, "Who let loose all these bitches in here?" Succubi were tough, but they didn't do much damage. These three took a beating, but they went down. Just like everyone else.

"Well met," the devil said, "I am grateful to you for ridding me of those... nuisances."

"Be careful," the paladin warned, taking her arm and drawing her back against him. She was conscious of his proximity, his hot breath on the back of her neck, "It is a pit fiend, one of those higher devils of the Hells. Trust nothing it says."

"Thanks, I kind of figured that," she said, "You know... bard? I know a thing or two about the hells?"

"I see. Well, if you need my help, you know where I'll be."

"Well you'll be right there, I should hope," she said, "Unless you intend on running off all by your lonesome."

"Yes," the paladin said.

"Regardless of your intent," the devil said. He spoke in a low baritone and an aristocratic accent. There was something in his voice that Adahni found oddly soothing, "Regardless of your intent, your actions have benefited me. I wish to help you in return, if you will allow it."

"Well," Adahni said, trying her best to be diplomatic, "Your offer most likely has a great many catches, but I have precious little patience."

"You see, I am not here by choice," the devil continued, "I was bound to this circle by the githyanki... old enemies of yours, I believe. Once bound, I was forced to shape the barrier you see ahead to prevent any... trespass. It exists outside the plane. It cannot be dispelled, but my presence here feeds it and allows it to maintain its shape. Of course, if you were to banish me..."

"Fine," Adahni said, "How?"

"Speak my true name. I could tell you it, but of course I would need your promise that you will use it only to banish me."  
Adahni looked over at the ranger. _Leverage, it's all about the leverage... _"I give you my word," she said.

"My name is Mephasm."

"All right, Mephie," she said, "Mephasm, I banish you."

The circle immediately erupted in flames. The devil rose into the air, twisting around and around, until he was gone. Where he had been was a small sphere. Adahni picked it up and put it in her pack. "Well that was interesting," she said, "I hope that bit of knowledge may save our asses in the future!"

"I wouldn't count on in," grumbled the ranger, "Unless you can sick him on that thing."

"What thing?"

He pointed. Coming towards them down the smooth corridor was a huge fiend with purple spikes sticking out of its scaled back. Its mouth was positively frothing. "Zaxis does not know how you got past barrier, but Zaxis is please to see you."

"A hezrou demon," Casavir said, "Keep your distance, they are said to be incredibly strong."

"I wouldn't have guessed, considering it's fourteen feet tall and the size of eight men," Adahni commented, rolling her eyes.

"All our bashing and rending have failed to open this door, but our claws will tear you easily."

"Cute," Khelgar said, "Can we kill it?"

"You first," said the ranger.

"Wait," Adahni said, "This thing is about as smart as a wizard academy pupil. I think we can play with it first."

"What? Talk with... that? Don't be a fool!" Khelgar exclaimed, "Come on, let's kill it."

It was the ranger that started it. An arrow sudden appeared in the creature's eye, and Bishop stood there, his jaw set with determination. "Thanks, jackass," Adahni groaned, and launched herself into the fray. They killed it pretty much by outlasting it, for by the end of the battle, all four were pretty banged up. As it drew its last breath, the door to the innermost chamber opened, and Adahni could catch a glimpse at what lay within.


	29. Old Scars

Beyond the door, which was carved ornately with what looked to be ceremonial symbols of some sort, was a large antechamber. Great curving spike jutted up fromt he floor, forming a portal of sorts in the middle of them. At the center was a female githyanki - at least that was the impression Adahni got from its features. he was taller than the others and appeared to be wearing a crown. Though her shape was obscured with the swirling magical energies that surrounded her, Adahni could make out when she turned to them with a hiss. "Though these demons were unanticipated, your arrival was not. I have seen it burning brightly in my visions for some time. How long did you think you could escape us? You have stolen our shards, defiled them with your touch, and now you will die, Kalach Cha."

Adahni looked wearily up at the githyanki. She was sore, and tired, and wondered if she had enough in her for this fight. She unhooked her pack from her back and dropped it, glad to be free of the extra weight. "I really, really don't care," she said, "Frankly I find the whole shard business to be incredibly obnoxious... but we are here for the farmer girl, and it would be much appreciated if you could let her go."

"Trust me, once he gets on your trail, your doomed." Adahni recognized the voice, and followed it to see the farmer girl, sitting with her armed wrapped around her legs, in an iron cage in the corner of the room.

"Know that you are in no position to demand anything from me," the female gith snarled, "You will answer for your crimes...along with this frail thing that carries the last of the Jerro blood."

"I can't tell what's more appalling, your sense of justice or the way you smell," Adahni said.

"You already know your crimes, there is no reason to count them now to stall judgment."

"All right," Adahni said, "I've faced 'justice' once before. How do you plan to kill me"

"If you were in the Astral Plane, the Lich Queen would see that you were slowly tortured, killed, and then raised again for countless cycles... your crime merits many deaths."

"Kinky!" Adahni exclaimed, eliciting a guffaw from the ranger, "But you aren't the Lich Queen, are you?"

"Among the githyanki, none but the Lich Queen have more authority than I. My offer of mercy is this... I will grant a swift, painless death for you and your companions, if you freely hand over the shards you have taken."

"All right," Adahni said, kicking her pack over so one of the silk-wrapped shards spilled onto the floor, "Come get them."

"What are you doing?" hissed Khelgar, "This is no time for word games!"

The female gith raised her hand. Her shards shed their wrappings and levitated into the air, flying towards her. Adahni put one hand to her blade, but then felt a peculiar tugging sensation. It felt as though she were being lifted by a hook driven into her flesh, just at the point between her breasts where Jem Quarely had once observed a scar. She soon learned what it was like to be a cloak, hung up on a nail in the wall. Her body hung suspending, her legs flailing useless at the air, from one bright spot of pain in her chest.

"Did you really think you could keep such relics of my people? They do not belong to you... odd... I have all the ones you carry, yet it seems you still possess one!"

Adahni looked down at her chest. All the magic seemed to be pulling it up and towards the female gith. "You have a piece of the sword inside of you," the gith observed, "All right, I will remove it from you... by force." The tugging stopped and Adahni fell on her ass on the floor, gasping for breath.

"That fucking hurt," she growled, scrambling to her feet. Her companions had, meanwhile, begun going through the gith that had been guarding the portal. Adahni herself, in a rage, threw herself at the sphere of magic that surrounded the bitch who had started the whole thing. It was as though she had run into a thick pain of glass - she hit her face hard and tumbled back towards the ground, "All right," she said. She started smashing at the spikes that seemed to be generating the portal, knocking them down, sending splinters of rock every which way. With each one that fell, the magical energy separating herself and the leader of the gith grew weaker, until...

"The portal!" exclaimed the gith leader, "No! I must kill you quickly... every moment on this plane... every moment will pass like a year!"

"Why do they always announce their weaknesses?" Adahni wondered out loud, parrying a blow and striking at the gith.

The gith leader finally fell under a blow from Khelgar's mighty axe.

"You think this is over? You are wrong, Kalach-Cha," the gith hissed with her dying breath, "I hope the pain you have brought here is revisited upon you a thousandfold. The Lich Queen will know of my fall... yes... but it will be too late. What comes for you will be revenge enough."

"No empty threats about how the githyanki will kill me? I'm disappointed."

"We were never the ones you had to fear. In defying us, you have harmed your own people, and everything on your plain. You have sealed your feat. The shards you carry were needed... evil wakes, and in killing me, you now stand alone against what comes. An ancient enemy comes for you... you have already felt the effects of his presence, and he will grow stronger with time. This enemy, this King of Shadows... if he succeeds in his plans, your civilization will become dust..."

"If you had told me all this earlier, instead of trying to kill me, it seems as though this eventuality could have been avoided!" Adahni cried angrily.

"I will see you in death. I do not think I will have to wait long," with this pronouncement, the gith collapsed, striking her head against the stones of the floor with a 'crack.'

Adahni looked up. Shandra had managed to break the lock on the cage and ran to her side. "I'm getting so tired of this," she sighed, "You have to let me save you sometime, or else I'll never be able to pay you back."

"Oh, there'll be plenty of time for you to pay all of us on the way back the Neverwinter," the ranger said darkly.

"You put me in danger. I'm not paying you a single coin."

"Well then you'll be paying me another way," the ranger said, his eyes sliding sleazily over the farmer. Adahni looked at him in disgust. "My bedroll's a little cold at night - I'm think you can fix that."

"Maybe you'd best shut your mouth, ranger. Your words are starting to anger me," Khelgar warned.

"Oh, really, what a surprise," the ranger shot back, "How'd you like it if I left you here in Luskan territory with your righteousness to keep your company?"

"Watch your tongue," Adahni commanded, taking a tone like a mother would have taken to an impudent little brat. That was, after all, what the ranger was, "If you don't, I'll cut it out."

"Awww, jealousy's thick in this little band, I see. Don't worry," he said, his eyes falling upon her, "I haven't forgotten your pretty face, fair leader."

"I won't have you speaking to her, or anyone else, that way," the paladin warned.

"Ooh, another surprise! Same goes for you as for the dwarf," Bishop snarled.

"Well, it looks as though Bishop just bought himself four days worth of sleeping outside," Adahni said, "I sure don't want him in the tent anymore."

"Here, here!" the dwarf seconded, "Come on, let's get back the way we came. There's real bed and warm food there. Downright civilized!"

Like Neeshka, Bishop's bark was bigger than his bite. He took sleeping outside of the tent like a dog kept outside during the winter, and behaved himself the rest of the way back. Adahni got the feeling that he preferred his own company, and purposely made himself as obnoxious as possible to keep others away from him.

* * *

Back at the Flagon, Duncan was very pleased to see them all in one piece. "Glad to see you've all returned, and in one piece, no less!"

Adahni narrowed her eyes at her uncle and slung an arm around his slim shoulders, drawing him aside, "Well, I discovered I have an extra piece inside," she hissed, "When were was anyone going to tell me about the shard lodged in my chest?"

"Inside the wound on your chest?" Duncan said.

"How does everyone know about this?" Adahni asked, blushing.

"That means you've been carrying the shard around almost your entire life? I had no idea."

"Notice the stumble in his word. Your uncle's been keeping secrets, I think," the ranger commented.

"I don't know if I'm the best one to be telling you this," he said, "But if you'vegot one of those shards in you, I think you've earned the right to hear everything. Daeghun already told you, when you were an infant, West Harbor was the site of a battle, a terrible battle. The King of Shadows himself led an army of demons against the Neverwinter army, which had gathered at the village. West Harbor was struck suddenly, without warning. There was panic, confusoin... villagers fleeing everywhere to escape the battle. Except for Shayla, Daeghun's wife, and your mother, Esmerelle. They stayed behind you, to save you."

"I see," Adahni sighed.

"It wasn't my decision to keep what happened to your mother from you, and my brother would be furious if he knew I'd told you. In any case, when the few that remained returned to the village, noone was alive. Except you. Your mother was there, so much blood... and you were clutched in her bosom, a deep wound in your chest. She'd tried to shield you, but... the shard must have cut through her and into you. Your wound sealed itself in days, leaving the scar you still bear."

"Well, it's good to know," Adahni sighed, "I think I ought to go to the old man himself for the rest of this story."  
Duncan nodded gravely.

"Why the long faces, you two?" Bishop asked, his face a mask of merriment, "Come on, let's have a drink! By the way, I've decided it would be in both our interests if I stay on with you."

"And why would you want to do that?" asked Adahni, raising her eyebrows.

"What, does a man need a reason? Come now. Duncan's hkind request was enough to start this, I think, why not finish it?"

"We don't need you," the paladin said.

"There you go again, paladin, putting words in the girl's mouth," Bishop said.

"I really don't think it will be necessary," Duncan said, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, come now, Farlong - I still owe you. And what better way to make it up to you than by watching your niece here? After all, a debt is a debt... all the way until the end. Isn't that right?"

"What about me?" Shandra cut in.

"Fine!" Adahni said, "Everyone stay, it'll be one big happy dysfunctional fucking family!" She sat herself in a chair and turned her back to the lot of them. The last thing she wanted was to deal with her companions before she'd gotten the news she had just heard sorted out in her head. Her mother had always been a faceless creature, some fair-haired, blue-eyed version of her who had perished giving her life. She supposed it was still true, but now... to know that she had spent a day of her life in her dead mother's arms made her more than a little queasy.

"You're letting her stay? Because we need someone who's' easy on the eyes? That's what I'm here for!" the ranger exclaimed.

"Khelgar, Casavir, I'm going to need you to stay here," Adahni said, not turning, "Teach her how to swing a sword. I'll be leaving for awhile."

"You'll what?" the dwarf asked.

"Duncan and I," Adahni said, leaning her head into her hands, "Are going to go back to the old homestead for Midwinter. It's a week and a half journey, and the snow is starting to come, so we'll be leaving tomorrow morning."

"We... we what?" asked Duncan, looking at her sharply.

"We're going to see Daeghun," Adahni said, "Sal can take over the bar, at least for a short time."

"I can't - " Duncan started.

"What you can't do is open that cage of mice you just did and expect them not to get out and scurry all over your house," Adahni said, "Come on, Duncan. This is important."

The half-elf looked down at her. "All right," he said, "I haven't seen the old man in ages, either. I... I have a few sins to atone for myself."

Adahni nodded, "We'll be gone about a moon," she said, "Everyone just go on about your tasks, find a job or something, I don't care. But I do expect all of you to be here when we get back."

"And don't trash the inn!" Duncan exclaimed, "This is of paramount importance..."

"I'll guard the ale with my life," Khelgar said gravely, "Provided, of course, I get free room and board for my troubles."

Duncan surveyed the room uneasily. "I haven't left the inn in years," he said, knitting his eyebrows, "And I have not been to West Harbor in decades."

"Well, you're coming now," Adahni said.

"I would ask your leave you accompany you," Elanee said quietly, "I would return to the druids of the wood for the winter."

"You mean you don't just crawl into a cave and hibernate?" the ranger called from across the room.

"Shut up," Adahni retorted, "You're a free man, you said so yourself. So go set yourself free."

"No," the ranger said, "I think I'll be accompanying you as well. No sense in letting you perish out in the cold. For a fee, of course."

"He has a point," Duncan said, "Between him and the druid, we would move quickly."

"I don't like the thought of you going into the wilderness unescorted," the paladin said, his eyebrows drawing together.

"She can take better care of herself than you can," Bishop retorted, "Anyway, I'm curious to see the shithole that spawned these two idiots."

"I really think I ought to come along," Casavir insisted. Adahni looked at him curiously. He had drawn close to her, stepping between her and the ranger. She peeked her head out from behind him.

"You heard our leader," said the ranger, "Stay home and coach the blond. The innkeeper will be out of your way."

The paladin narrowed his pale eyes, "I am going to pretend you did not utter those words," he said. He turned to her, putting his hand on her upper arm, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I got along just fine before I met you," Adahni said, "I don't know why you think that after twenty-four years of taking care of myself I'm suddenly incompetent now. Same goes for you, ranger, I made it out here all right, I don't need your expertise to tell me how not to freeze to death."

"Well," Bishop said, "As you said before, I'm a free man. This free man is going to take a trail, whether it be the same trail you happen to take or not is entirely up to me. The paladin, however, seems to still be bound to your service."

"Keep Shandra safe," Adahni insisted softly, ignoring the ranger. She removed his hand from her arm, "I can't deal with her right now and gods know she cannot take care of herself. I fully expect her to be a hardened warrior when we get back."

"If that is how I may make myself the most useful," the paladin said, lowering his eyes, "Thought I cannot help but question the wisdom of your decision. The road through the Mere is still dangerous."

"It was worse when I first came here," she replied, "And, as you can see, I am perfectly fine."

"You seem more concerned with yourself than her," Neeshka commented. She was, as usual, listening to everything they said, "C'mon, stay here for the winter, it'll be fun without ol' yellow-eyes ordering us around."

The paladin smiled slightly, "I would have a word with you before you leave."

"You've got two days," Adahni said, "But for right now, I'm going to take a nap. Duncan and Elanee, you'd better start packing your things. I'm leaving at dawn two days from now, with or without you."


	30. My First Time

She awoke from her nap around drinking time when the sun had already gone down over the black water to the west. She went out back to the pump and washed herself quickly, sort of liking the cold water against her skin. She dried herself with a clean cloth and scurried back to her room wrapped in just that, to find that her hair had frozen to her scalp. She spent the next few minutes thawing it and brushing it out. She had not had clean hair in weeks, and it felt smooth as silk under her calloused fingers.

She laced herself up and threw on a cotton shift that she kept around for nights when armor was completely unnecessary, and went out to the bar. Neverwinter, as its name implied, enjoyed warmer temperatures than its neighbors along the Sword Coast, but to make that comparison was sort of like saying that black dragons were less dangerous than red when one was bearing down on you with teeth like daggers. But the barroom was heated by several roaring fires and the company of many warm bodies, and Adahni really couldn't complain.

She scanned the room. Most of her companions were nowhere to be found. Khelgar was in the company of a couple of dwarven sailors, toasting themselves and each other and chugging down flagon after flagon. Shandra, she imagined, had been ordered, under the paladin's tutelage, not to drink too much while she was learning to fight. Once Khelgar had her, Adahni imagined she would be right there with the sailors, ranting and roaring like an old salt.

To her surprise, the tiefling and the ranger were sitting together at a table, deep in conversation. Adahni would not have pegged them as getting along, but from the way Neeshka was laughing, she gathered that they were becoming very good friends indeed. She went up to the bar, procured three tankards, and brought them over, setting each in front of one of her companions. She then seated herself.

"What are we talking about?" she asked. Bishop looked at her in surprise.

"I didn't know you would deign to drink with the likes of us," he said.

"Oh, come on, you obviously don't know her very well!" Neeshka exclaimed, "She can drink Khelgar under the table and still call for more."

"All right, I seem to have underestimated you, Farlong."

"Farishta."

"Whatever."

"We were just playing a game called Big Bastard," Neeshka said, "It's a drinking game. You tell everyone about a bad thing you did, and then the next person tries to top it by telling something that they did that was worse. Then whoever loses - whoever's story isn't as bad - has to chug their drink."

"I've played that before," Adahni said, thinking of the lazy summer of her fifteenth year, spent in a sunny patch in the Mere with a few of the local people. Their confessions then had mostly been about childrens' pranks and clumsy teenage sexual escapades, and they had washed down their sins with gulps of Dayven's moonshine. She was a little frightened, she had to admit, of what sort of revelations the game and the drink might bring out of any of them. Mostly she wa afraid that Bishop might let something slip about that past that she would rather stay hidden, at least for the time being. She was doing an all right job of treating him as Bishop, a stranger and a peer, instead of as Kyrwan, the little boy whose life she had irrevocably fucked up, and now this foray into friendship might prove disastrous.

"All right," Bishop said, "You first, Neeshka, what's the worst thing you've done recently - last few days, let's say?"

"The other night," Neeshka said, "I snuck onto a merchant ship. I filled my pockets from the payroll chest, and then tied all of the sleeping sailors' boot laces together."

"I made all of your companions very uncomfortable by making sexual overtures to the farmer," Bishop announced, "If it's any excuse, the same line has worked before."

"All right," Neeshka said, "Your turn."

"I slept with a married man a few weeks ago. And then, after I found out he was married, I did it again," she said.

"Ouch," Bishop said, "That's personal."

"And we have a winner. Congratulations, Addie, you're the Big Bastard."

"Drink, you two," Adahni ordered, which they did, draining their ales. They procured more, and played a few more rounds until Neeshka and Bishop were red in the face and Adahni would have been if she had a slightly paler complexion. By the time an hour had passed, they were slurring their words and the game 'Big Bastard' had just turned into 'reveal an embarassing secret.'

"So what was your first time like?" Adahni asked, leaning over the table to look the tiefling square in the eye.

"Well, he was real handsome, all well-put together," Neeshka responded, "I was sleeping over at the Frog and Cat over by the river at the time, and he comes sneaking into my room at around three in the morning, drunk as a skunk!"

"And what did you do?" asked Bishop, who was leaning his chair back against the wall.

"Well the rest is history," Neeshka said, giggling and blushing, "I mean, do you really need all the gory details?"

"No!" exclaimed Adahni, laughing, "I'm sure whatever you did, it was nothing that can be repeated in polite company!"

"I assure you, it wasn't," Neeshka said, "Funny thing is, I don't even remember his name. What about you, Bishop, I'm sure there's some dirty secrets lying around in your past."

"She was a whore," Bishop said, shortly, "I think the rest is best left to the imagination."

Adahni and Neeshka nodded their agreement. It was Neeshka who spotted the paladin first, the merriment fading from her eyes. He came up behind Adahni and seated himself beside her, "What are you talking about?" he asked, "I could not help but overhear."

"Our first times," Adahni said, "So why don't you tell us about yours?"

"My... I..." Casavir stuttered.

"All right, fine," Adahni said, "I'll just talk about mine, and unlike these two, I'm not going to be coy about it. I was twenty-three years of age, and I seduced a man old enough to be my father."

"I thought you were married," Casavir said, "When you were much younger than that."

"I took him up to my room," Adahni said, "And he got a little rough with me. What he didn't know was that I had been planning to do the deed for some time and I was entirely prepared."

"This is hardly appropriate," the paladin said.

"You can leave if you don't want to hear the next part," Adahni said, "Anyway, he gets my corset half-way untrussed..."

"And then what?" Neeshka asked.

"I stabbed him between the eyes," Adahni replied, "At least the first man I killed deserved it. What'd a poor working girl ever do to you, Bishop?"

"She became worth more to her pimp dead than alive," the ranger replied, "I was fifteen and needed the money."

Adahni giggled out loud as the paladin realized what it was they were talking about. Oddly, he seemed more at ease that sort of first time than the one he had imagined they were conversing on at first. _Funny how a man can be so uptight about something as natural and fun as sex, and somehow the most unnatural act in the world - extinguishing the life of another human being - is all right. _"So now do you want to tell us about it?" she asked.

"There was a duel," the paladin said, "It was my life or his, and he lost. You should not speak on this subject so lightly. No doubt all of those people had families."

"I know," Adahni said, "But so did the three women that he murdered before I got to him."

"Oh, come on," groaned Neeshka, "You can't drop a hint like that and then not tell us the whole story!"

"I just told you the whole story," Adahni said, "He liked to kill women, and I liked killing him. Developed a knack for it even. A taste for the blood of the wicked... and the mildly obnoxious." She grinned a drunken grin, even though the paladin was clearly not amused. Neither, apparently, was the ranger, who got up from the table and stalked out of the room. She remembered something very important at the point, and felt her face grow hot with shame.

"What's with him?" Neeshka asked.

"I don't rightly know," Adahni lied.

"Well, if you play a game like this right, someone is bound to leave the room in anger," Neeshka reasoned, "What was the duel over?"

"It's not important," Casavir said, "It was not worth the life of the man I killed."

"So why did you fight him?" asked Adahni. The paladin's severe tone had startled her halfway back to sobriety, "Why didn't you walk away, if that's how you felt about it?"

"I was young and foolish," he said, "I did have second thoughts about it before I challenged him, but it would have shamed both of us if I had called it off."

"Honor," Adahni scoffed, "I've always reasoned that honor does you little good if you're too dead to enjoy it."

The paladin nodded gravely, "That is the conclusion I have drawn after ten years."

Adahni shrugged, "Seemed like common sense to me."

"How come whenever _he _shows up you become no fun at all?" Neeshka asked, pouting, "I'm going to go drink with someone else if you're going to be all serious."

"Aw, come on, Neesh, we can't be happy and lighthearted all the time," Adahni said, "It would get boring."

"But you always are when he's not around," Neeshka said, scowling at the paladin, "You're all smiles and jokes and funny songs, but as soon as he shows up, you're like a statue of Ilmater."

"I'm sorry," the paladin said, "I have that effect on people. Perhaps I should go."

"No," Adahni said, putting a hand over his wrist, "It's all right. Stay, maybe some fun will rub off on you."

"It's a little late for that," he replied. His laugh was a dry leaf in the wind.

"When you first joined us, you thought we were talking about coupling and you were completely uncomfortable," Adahni said, "Yet when you knew we were talking about murder - necessary or not - you immediately eased and proceeded to lecture us. Why does the former make you so nervous?"

"Well, if you must know," the paladin said, "The former is what lead to the latter, in my case."

"Ooh!" Neeshka squealed, "I changed my mind, you can stay. I'm always up for tales of passion and thrills!"

"It's a tragedy, not an epic," Casavir reprimanded her.

"Let her be," Adahni said, "I know the sound of a man who needs and ear, and it's no good to go criticizing those who would listen to your troubles."

Neeshka shot her a look of thanks across the tables.

"I apologize," the paladin said immediately, "I did not mean to question your intentions."

"So what happened?" asked the tiefling.

"I was once a knight in the service of Lord Nasher. That was a long time ago, and I was very much younger and a little more foolish," the paladin began, "I had a squire, a young noble a few years younger than myself. We grew very close, and I loved him like a brother."

Neeshka looked about ready to make a joke about knights who preferred the company of their squires to that of women, but Adahni glared at her and she rolled her eyes, but remained silent.

"So what happened?"

"My squire - Ayron was his name - became involved with the daughter of a lord who was studying at the academy. He played the mandolin, like you, Addie, as a hobby, and made up all sorts of funny little songs. I still catch myself singing them sometimes. He had a way with words like I never did. He wrote her such beautiful love songs...

"I suppose that his incessant standing under her window and writing her poems and singing her praises eventually won her heart. Theirs was a love for a ballad, at least that's what he told me. He was nineteen and still believed in such things, and I thought there was no harm in letting it go. What he didn't tell me was that this lady's father had betrothed her to another, and that he and her brothers stood to make a good brideprice for her. When her oldest brother caught him in her bed, instead of acting like any normal man, he ran him through on the spot. He bled to death right then and there."

"And what does this have to do with the man you killed?"

"I grieved for him as if he was my own brother. The week after he was buried, I went to the house and found her brother and challenged him. A week after that, we dueled in public, in broad daylight, under the view of a judge from the monastery of Helm."

"And?"

"I killed him," Casavir said, "It was peace time when I was made a knight, I had never had cause to slay any man before. And afterwards... afterwards I could not bring myself to do it again. I joined the order of Tyr and remained there in the cloisters for a long time."

"And now?"

"I was called out of my confinement for the war," he said, "I obeyed, reluctantly, fighting as a paladin of Tyr rather than a knight of Neverwinter. And then, when the war was over, I went to Old Owl Well to protect the poor souls there."

"That's it?" Neeshka asked, clearly unimpressed, "That's your story? At least you had a reason to kill him. A good one. Like Addie's."

"Revenge is not a good reason," Casavir said, "I made a child fatherless and a widow of a wife, all for my stubbornness in letting my brother go."

"You killed a murderer in a manner completely consistent with the law. I don't see your problem here," Adahni said, "As far as I'm concerned he deserved it."

"I appreciate your view," Casavir said, "And I wish I could reason my actions away as you do."

"What about the girl?" asked Adahni.

"The father took a hit on the bride price since she wasn't a virgin," Casavir said, "They sold her like cattle. I haven't really thought about her."

He was lying, she could see by the way he was fidgeting in his seat. He was possibly the calmest person she had ever met, but now his leg was jittering up and down uncontrollably. He was also blinking more than he usually did. She didn't want to press him though. People lied for a reason and if they didn't want to tell you something then there was no use in trying to squeeze it out.

"But at the end of it," he continued, "Ayron is still dead and there's not a day that goes by that I don't curse myself for not doing more to keep him out the situation in the first place."

Adahni nodded, "I know that feeling. But still, he died in the arms of the one he loved. We should all be so lucky."

"Cheers to that," Neeshka said, lifting her glass. Adahni did likewise and, to her surprise, so did the paladin.

"To love, however unlucky it may be," Adahni toasted, clinked her tankard with her companions', and drained it. That was four, she reasoned, and her fingers had warmed up just enough to play a few tunes.

"Any preferences?" she asked.

"Play a love song," Neeshka said, "Nothing too tragic, we just got enough of that."

"All right," Adahni said. Instead of sitting at her usual stool in the corner, she sat in the same chair she'd been sitting in. Duncan be damned, she was more interested in playing for her friends.

_Oh, will ye come with me, sweet love of my heart?  
Oh , will ye take my hand and with me depart?  
Will ye ride on a horse or be drawn in a cart?  
Or walk by my side, oh sweet love of my heart?  
I care not yer parents, their land or their money  
I care not yer kith or yer kin high and lordly  
I care to be with ye and never apart  
__Oh, will ye come with me, sweet love of m__y heart?  
I can offer you nothing in silver or land  
For there is no price for the warmth of your hand  
The love I can give ye is richer by far  
Oh, will ye go with me, sweet love of my heart?  
Oh will ye be known as a poor rambler's lover  
And sleep in the heather with the pines as a cover  
The sky for a roof and ye candle a star  
My love for a fire, sweet love of my heart? (2)_

The song itself was not sad, but the tune was wailing and mournful and she sang it wailingly, keeping her picking gentle and even. She was satisfied too, this time, have captured the paladin's gaze.

After that, she played songs without words that, switching between the mandolin and harp a few times and even was persuaded to do a little hopping jig with a fancy-footed merchant while Grobnar (he had taken up his bagpipes full time, along with a squeezebox that fit him a little better, and a peculiar instrument with a head like a drum whose strings made an unbearable 'twang' when plucked) took over for a set. For some reason, the paladin's little revelation had made her feel better about herself next to him. He had done the same thing she had, she reasoned, and he was still a good man. She had been wary of him at first, she remembered, but could not for the life of her put a finger on why. He had been good to the men who followed him, and was kind to her almost to the point of being creepy.

She wondered, as she let her fingers dance over the strings, if she reminded him of his squire, and that was why he was so protective. She also wondered if he found her attractive, and that was the reason. Involuntarily, she recalled the jolt she'd gotten when he'd touched her head, that day on the ship. _Well if that isn't the last thing I need right now... _But the more she thought about it, the more she couldn't _stop_ thinking about it. He was older than her, for sure, by seven or more years, but in many ways he was naive, and rather than frustrating she found it rather endearing.

_I'm glad I'll have a month away to consider things, _she thought. _For now, just think about what you're going to say to your father. _This, as she mulled it over, was decidedly more difficult than her thought about the paladin. She could not very well demand that Daeghun reveal all of his secrets when she would not reveal any of hers. Perhaps she would work on Duncan along the road there, try and get a little more information out of him about her mother. The way he had talked about her, the two times that she had brought her up, gave her pause. She wondered, as she closed the piece and rubbed her aching fingers, whether her mother's sins would be brought to bear on her in the near future.

_(2) If anyone is curious about this one, the tune and most of the lyrics are Robert Burns' "Tibbie Dunbar"_


	31. A Dish Served Cold

_Last Year, Luskan_

* * *

For four long years, she bided her time. Outside Luskan's walls, the war raged, barring her from her one passage home. Somewhere out there, she knew, was that bastard Evendyn Claven. She saw two other bodies floating down river in the span of those years, both young women, though not employees of the Cuckoo's nest, their faces mottled with bruises and their necks snapped, their gowns left lewdly undone. The goons left her alone, since she made her payments on time, but her mind was unswerving in its fantasies of cold revenge. Every night, she drank herself into oblivion so she didn't feel the men's hands and bodies upon her. She drank so that she was gay and smiling and laughing and singing every night, so that she moaned louder and more honestly, so that she'd let them do things that the other whores didn't. Girls came and went, but Adahni was a constant, Kath's favorite, the one that all the noblemen asked about.

Every end of the week, she saw Dayven. While she drowned herself in whiskey, he destroyed himself with Cyric's Madness, and soon he was a shriveled, withdrawn little creature, a shell of his former self. The drug gave him courage, though, and precision. Unfortunately, he would use these on her when he had a mind to. The accusations were random, bordering on nonsensical. She was planning to leave him. She enjoyed all the disgusting things her clients made her do. She was actually in love with Alista, one of her coworkers. Any of these accusations brought a rain of fists. She tried to give out as good as she got, but she was clumsy, and weak, and more often than not drunk.

She never saw Kyrwan again, imagining him to be deep within the bowels of the Circle of Blades. Sometimes she felt a pang of guilt for the boy, but that, along with everything else, was gone in the sweet blur of whiskey.

The war ended in the summertime. It was a defeat for Luskan, and the troops descended back into the city and everyone was in a foul mood. The few expatriated residents of Neverwinter drank a bottle of good gin on the dock that night, celebrated their ability to return home, and at the end all of them except for Adahni and Dayven peeled off into the night, presumably to cross the border. With peace time, too, came the return of the ambassador, now promoted to high ambassador, back to her post in Neverwinter. Without his wife to distract him, Evendyn Claven, that murderous wretch, returned to his old ways. Soon enough, he was back at the Cuckoo's Nest, deep in his cups and waiting for a whore to come along to end the monotony of his night. For three nights, Kath pointed him her way, but Adahni was always with another client. She would giggle and wave, swing her hips as she walked away. Men wanted what they couldn't have, and the more he wanted her, the more power she had over him.

Four days blurred together. On the morning of the fourth day, she awoke with the knowledge that if she was ever going to get of this life, and take Evendyn with her, she had to do it that night. It was early autumn by this time, the trees just tinged with gold around the edges and the air just beginning to smell of the promise of winter. She disentangled herself from the arms of the ploughboy she had spent her night with, rose, washed herself, and drank more whiskey to ease the pain. Then she went back downstairs to the room she had shared with Kyla – in whose closet the poor girl's things still waited for their mistress, and slept again. When she awoke, she sharpened her knives, and went over her plan. By this time, she reasoned, he had seen her completely drunk and unable to fit two words together for three nights in a row. He was expecting her drunk, so she had to be sober. She nearly took some of Dayven's drugs, hoping for the agility and bravado that came with it, but having seen what it had done to her former love, she feared it more than she feared doing the job sober.

Near midnight, when she was dancing a blindingly fast reel with a sailor from Calumshan, she saw him, his silver hair glinting in the lantern light and an evil smile playing about his lips. Kath pointed her out, as she always did. Instead of pointing to the sailor and shrugging, she nodded and smiled, walking over. She approached him demurely, offered him some gin, which he took, and then grabbed her roughly by the waist and asked if she fancied a tumble. She named her price. He argued her down. She didn't go too low, because then he would have suspected her. They agreed on a fee, exorbitantly more than her usual, and she took him up upstairs.

The room Kath had given her a key to was larger and finer than any she had ever been in. It was on the second floor, with large windows that overlooked the harbor, and one with a small balcony jutting out. She must have sighed in fascination as she entered, making her seem younger and more naive than she was. She felt the cold of her dagger in her bodice, the warmth of the one in her garter, and the final one, tucked into her corset in the back, and smiled, hoping she would have the guts for what she had to do next.

The door slammed shut behind her.

"I've got you now, you teasing bitch," he said, his voice deep and cold.

She said nothing. This was his act. She had noticed that men like him – who had clever wives or successful wives – were the ones who enjoyed play-acting the most with the whores. She almost felt sorry for him, she really did, but a man who could not accept defeat from a woman was one thing – a man who went out and beat others into a bloody pulp to make him feel better was quite another.

She felt him approach her, put his arm around her throat, squeezing until she thought her eyes would pop out. She struggled to grab her blade, and suddenly wished she had hidden it somewhere more accessible. With his other hand, he tore her skirt from her and threw it to the floor. He then went for her bodice, undoing it, button by button. She would have been holding her breath even if he hadn't been choking her. He was clumsy, but he got it open. The knife clattered to the floor and went skittering under a bureau. In his surprise, he let her neck go and went to look at what it was that had made that noise. While he was stooped, she fetched him over the back of the head with a chair. He whirled, his face white. She drew the dagger in her garter from where he had freed it, and was about to end it then and there.

He was quicker than she anticipated. She had watched him from afar for so long that to be up in his face, smelling his breath and feeling the very real danger she was in seemed surreal, dreamlike. He struck the knife out of her hand and punched her twice, hard. She felt her nose break under his fist, the blood gush down her face and into her mouth. She struck out blindly while he continued to pummel her. He brought her to the ground with one hard fist after the other and got started on her petticoats.

"See this is what I like in a woman," he said, glaring down at her with icy gray eyes, "A woman who thinks she's all tough, thinks she's in charge. That's the kind of woman I enjoy showing how helpless she really is."

He turned his attention to unbuttoning his trousers. Through her right eye, which was less badly bruised than her left, she saw the glint of the dagger which had got under the bureauu. She stretched out her fingers towards it while he pulled down his breeches, his attention affixed on their contents, trying to coax it into action. He stared only at her exposed legs and the blood swirling on the floor, and panted, trying as hard as he could to get it functional. While he was so distracted, she managed to pull her dagger towards her and, while he was cursing and rubbing himself, she struck him in the chest. She struck him deep, but not deep enough, it appeared. He roared, pulled the knife from his chest, and slashed her across the stomach, twice, and deep. She started backwards, staring in disbelief at the amount of blood that was flowing from her.

"You bastard," she hissed through her bloody teeth, "I am the last woman you will ever wound."

He only growled and held a hand to his wound, which was bleeding badly, "You'll pay for this, you whore."

"You first," she said, and put her hand on her final knife, which was strapped to her back. She saw the fear in his eyes, tasted it in the blood on her tongue.

"Why..."

"Kyla Bishop was a human being," she said, gritting her teeth, "You treated her like an animal, and now you'll die like one."

She hadn't planned to make a speech, but there was little point in killing him if he didn't know why he was being killed. She hefted it in her hand, and, like she had done so many times before, she threw it. It struck him in the forehead, and he fell to his knees, and then on his face on the ground. The blood spurted from the wound and she, regretfully, used a fine feather comforter to soak it up. Blood dripping from the ceiling was generally a feature that patrons tended to avoid in bars, and she wouldn't want Kath's business to suffer just because she had had a vendetta to carry out. She sat down on the bed and examined her wounds. They were deep, and she was starting to feel faint. She had no delusions, she imagined this would probably be her last night on Faerun. She had made her peace with Tymora, and hoped that she would understand.

She blew out all of the candles. The moon wasn't up yet, and the room was bathed in utter darkness. She picked herself up and bandaged her wounds as best she could, and then lay down on the silk sheets, fully expecting that she would not wake up. And if she did, the gallows would be waiting for her not to long afterwards.

Instead, she awoke while with the moonlight streaming in the window, making a silhouette of the man shaking her. The hand itself was covered in a leather glove, but the touch was soothingly familiar. She looked up at him, though her vision was dim. He wore the black robes of an assassin._So Dayven has finally come to my rescue_, she thought. She opened her mouth to say something to this effect, but he put a hand to her lips and shushed her. He handed her a piece of folded parchment and sat down, waiting for her to read it.

_To Dayven Elhandrien of the Circle of Blades:_

_You come highly recommended from your masters. Complete this job for me and I assure you it will be worth your while. As you are aware, my husband is prone to certain dalliances. Most recently, of course, have been the pretty young whores at the Cuckoo's Nest. Go tonight to the inn known as the Cuckoo's Nest. Find my husband. Bring me the heart of the whore he sleeps with tonight in this box. I trust you will not betray me._

_Best Regards,  
Torio Claven, Ambassador to Neverwinter_

Adahni finished reading and let the note fall to the floor. There was a pain in her head from where he had struck her, and her left eye was completely useless. She could still discern some shapes out of her right eye, and so she strained to see Dayven. He was still sitting on the bed, staring at Evendyn Claven's corpse.

"Why'd you kill him?" he whispered very quietly. His voice sounded strangely calm.

"Dayven... I thought you knew. He's the one! He killed Kyla," she replied. Dayven said nothing, but she saw his head under the cowl nod slowly.

"I was sent to kill you."

"I know. It's probably best if you do it," she said, "They'd only catch me and hang me."

Dayven went up to the corpse and pushed it so it was on its back. Then he took out a hunting knife and cut into the dead man's chest. The blood had stopped spurting by now. He ripped out the already still heart, and put it into what looked like a wooden box, all without looking at Adahni or saying a thing.

"Get out of town," he said, still whispering, "I'll dump this prick in the river."

"Where should I go?"

"I don't care, just get out."

She went to the door, unsteady on her feet. She felt cold and pale. The slashes on her body had stopped bleeding, but she knew she must have looked a fright. Dayven put his hand on her wrist. She turned to look at him, but could only see a figure of darkness, an absence of light in front of her. The Circle of Blades had engulfed him fully, she knew. She would never have him back. He was doing her one last kindness before he was lost to her forever. He pulled her to him and touched her face with one gloved hand, tenderly circling the bruises that that brute had left on her. She winced. He leaned down and kissed her, hard, on the mouth, his arms still wound tightly about her. She hadn't ever been kissed like that before, and for the first time in years she remembered why she had once loved him so deeply. She kissed him back, ignoring the pain in her mouth as his teeth bit into her slightly. She gave a little sob as he broke away, and shoved her viciously out the door.

And then she ran.


	32. Seven Years Gone

_Last Autumn, Neverwinter_

* * *

It was a slow night at the Sunken Flagon. Sal was slowly wiping down the table as a few old salts dozed off. In the thick of winter, even in Neverwinter's comparatively mild climate, people preferred to get shitfaced in the comfort of their own homes. Duncan was smoking his pipe by the fire, the heat of it washing over him and warming his joints. He was a young man still, by half-elf standards anyway, but sometimes the fatigue just overcame him.

When the door slammed open, he thought it was the wind, which came howling over the bay like a thousand angry dragons. When he got up to close it again, he saw that there was a figure there, silhouetted against the moon, the sleet pelting against him. He entered, a small man in a green cloak. Duncan went to shut the door behind him. The stranger seized his hand in one small fist and used the other to push back his hood.

"What are you doing here?" asked Duncan.

"I've a favor to ask, brother," Daeghun, for it was him, said, "Is there somewhere we can converse in private?"

In a store room in the back of the inn, Duncan lit a fire in the hearth and handed his brother a mug of hot cider. Daeghun was not a drinking man - only one of the many differences between them - and would not accept whiskey or wine. While Duncan had worried over the lines at the corners of his eyes and plucked more than one gray hair from his head, Daeghun had not aged a bit. _I suppose I'll go doddering into my grave and he'll still be middle-aged,_thought Duncan, a little jealously, _Then again, if the years wear on me like they have on him, I suppose that's a blessing._

"What brings you to Neverwinter in this dreadful weather?" asked Duncan.

"I've see shadows creeping up in the Mere," Daeghun replied, his mossy eyes on the fire, "Near the Illefarn ruins."

"I'm sure you could have stayed local if you need a sword arm. What is this really about?"

"They're after the shard," Daeghun said, "It has begun and we need to take action."

"I've got mine," Duncan said, "And there's another one floating around Neverwinter. Why don't you just fetch that one from the ruins and they'll all be taken care of."

"There's another one," Daeghun said, "That I know of. And it's gone missing."

"Shards just don't get up and walk away," Duncan said. After forty-something years of dealing with his brother's damn cryptic nature, Duncan's patience had worn a little thin, "Who took it?"

"This one did," Daeghun said, "Esmerelle's daughter doesn't know she has it, but she's taken it and gone missing."

"Gone missing?" Duncan said, "So you need me to track down your runaway charge. Where do you think she's gone?"

"I had hoped she would be in Neverwinter."

"She's not," Duncan replied, "Unless she's just arrived."

"I'll be the first to admit my fault in this. She ran away to marry the boy I forbade her to see," Daeghun said, "She would be in the company of a tall man with green eyes."

"What does she look like?" Duncan said.

"Uncannily like her mother, only with a dark complexion and black hair and very strange-colored eyes. I suppose they're pale brown, but they look yellow or orange, depending on the light," Daeghun replied.

"I haven't seen her. But it's a big city and she likely wouldn't have been here too long. How long has she been missing?"

Daeghun paused, "Seven years."

Duncan's jaw all but hit the floor. "She runs away with her boyfriend one night, and it takes you _seven years_ to bother to try and find her? Hell of a father you turned out to be."

"I would not be the first father to abandon her, if that is what I had done," Daeghun said, a dangerous glint in her eye, "Regardless, I felt that it was best to let her learn on her own the ways of the world. I did not realize that this would begin before she had come to her senses."

"Well, if she ran away from you and has been missing seven years, then there's no getting her back. If she's even alive," Duncan said, shaking his head, "What use did she have for the shard, why did she take it?"

"She didn't take it," Daeghun replied mysteriously, "But that is not my concern. I need you to find her."

"You're asking me to leave my establishment to go chasing after a woman that I've not laid eyes on since the day she was born," Duncan said.

"Yes," Daeghun said.

"Why can't you do it?"

"I have tried," he replied, "I'm not a young man. You still have companions who would be willing to go with you."

"Fine," Duncan sighed, "Just know that I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it cause I did a bad thing to Essie all those years ago and maybe if I find her I can sleep at night."

"I don't care to hear your reasons. Just find her."

"Do you have any idea where she's gone?"

"I ventured south before I came here, and there was no sign of her in any of the villages. So she must have gone north."

"Well maybe if you hadn't waited seven years," Duncan muttered, "You do know we've just fought a war with our northern neighbor, right? And that villages have been massacred?"

"Don't you think I've thought of that?" Daeghun shouted, or the closest thing that Daeghun Farlong ever did to shouting. He kept his teeth clenched so that his voice sounded very fierce, but he kept it as quiet as he always did.

"Relax. I'll give it my best shot," Duncan said, "We'll set out tomorrow morning. Take a bunk in the back and get some sleep. You'll need it."


	33. The Long Road Home

   They set out the next day when the sun was still a pale orb on the eastern horizon. Duncan had obviously been bound to his inn for too long, for he packed far too many things and was a bit out of shape. The druid slipped in and between the trees gracefully as ever, followed by the slightly more ungainly ranger. Adahni, who reasoned that the ancient forests and plains between Neverwinter and her home had been standing longer than she had and would be standing long after she died, and that they wouldn't really care if she hacked the branches out of her way with a long, flat knife that she had bought for that express purpose. Duncan brought up the rear, puffing and wheezing as they traveled over hill and valley, over moorland and marsh. They stopped only briefly for water and a few mouthfuls of dried meat, a few times that day, and pressed onwards. The snows had not begun to fall in any serious way yet, but the ground crunched beneath their feet and there were treacherously slippery puddles of ice on some of the larger rocks. By the time they laid camp along a river, probably two or three days journey from Highcliff, Adahni had a large bruise on her tailbone and was covered in scratches.

    "How long is it?" asked Duncan, laying his pack down with a 'thump.' Adahni and Bishop were setting up the tent, running twine between the wooden poles and stomping the pegs into the hard ground with small grunts of effort. The innkeeper sprawled out on the grass, unwilling or unable to do anything to help with the camp. Elanee, as was her wont, had disappeared and would probably not be seen until dawn.   

    "Nine, ten days," the ranger said, not looking at the half-elf. He had stooped to attach a line to a peg which was wedged precariously into the near-frozen ground, "It'd be less if you weren't along. You'll be sore tomorrow, probably slow us down even more."

    "Nobody even invited you," Duncan replied sourly.

    "All right," Bishop replied, "I'll leave you to the care of your niece. I'm sure she would love that..."

    "No," Adahni said, looking up, sharply, "I had my reservations, but you can stay."

    "I didn't hear the magic word."

    "Porcupines," she replied. Damned if he was going to make her beg. Better to turn it into a joke.  

    "Nope."

    "Shenanigans?"

    "Definitely not," the ranger said, shaking his head.

    "Half a bottle of double malt Ruathym whiskey?" she asked.

    "There it is."

    Once the tent was up, Duncan hurriedly unpacked his things and curled up in the corner. He was asleep before the sun was down. The ranger went off to hunt something alive to eat while Adahni lit a fire and lazed beside it, smoking and playing her harp, a small one she had bought from a merchant walking the road just outside the city gates. She didn't bat an eye when the ranger returned with six doves strung up on a rope. 

    "What was the stick up your ass the other night?" she asked when he had finished his tasks, washed his hands of blood and feathers, and sat down across the fire from her.

    "Last thing I need to listen to when I'm good and tipsy is the damn paladin moralizing about anything and everything."

    "You missed hearing his story," Adahni said, "He's worse than me, he killed out of revenge!"

    "Of course he did. Everyone's a bloody great hypocrite," Bishop said.

    "Except for you."

    "Yeah. At least I kill for money. I don't try to play it up, make it sound nice," he said. He lifted a hand and turned the birds, which were becoming brown and beginning to smell edible, over the fire.

    She shrugged, "Cas is all right."

    "Of course you'd think so," the ranger replied, rolling his eyes. In the firelight, his resemblance to his older sister was uncanny, "The demon girl's right, you know. You change when you're around him."

    "Do I? And how would you know what I'm like?"

    "I know you," the ranger said, "Better than you think. You and I are very much alike, I believe."

    "That may have been true in the past," she said, narrowing her eyes at him and fighting the urge to snatch one of the pigeons off its spit and tear into its flesh, "I've grown past that, and so should you."

    "You're full of pretty words," the ranger replied. As if reading her thoughts, he removed the spit from the fire and gingerly slid the carcasses off the spit, "But you're a very angry girl. Not that I blame you, of course..."

    "Not that I blame you, either," Adahni said. She rummaged through her pack and found the promised half bottle of double malt Ruathym whiskey. This was the closest they had ever come to openly discussing the past, and she could feel the familiar cold dread settling in her stomach. She uncorked the bottle and took a long swig, as long as she could without coughing and grimacing. She accepted the proferred meal and passed the whiskey over. The two of them chewed and swallowed in silence for a moment.

    "Duncan's not telling you everything," the ranger said.

    "Nobody ever does," she said, "I'm hoping if I can get him and my dad in the same room I might have a fighting chance of getting a straight answer." She chewed the ropy flesh from the pigeon's tiny delicate bones and tossed the rest of it aside.

    The ranger reached one gangly leg out and gave the bulge on the edge of the tent that could have only been Duncan a kick. "Food, you lazy wretch," he shouted. The kick was followed by a groan and Duncan's head, his hair even more disheveled than usually, poking through the tent flap. He accepted a bird and looked at it a moment.

    "It's looking at me," he said.

    Bishop reached over, took the bird, twisted its head off, and handed it back. Duncan looked as though he might be ill.

    "Meat doesn't come from the butcher's," the ranger said, "If you can't deal with it looking at you then you ought to live off grass like the damn druid." Duncan ate gingerly, but didn't complain again.

    "So no bandits yet," Adahni observed, trying to make small talk.

    "They smell you coming," the ranger said, "You stink of the blood of their brothers and they know to stay away from you."

    "They're people, not animals or magical creatures," Adahni said.

    "People have just as many instincts as animals," the ranger said, "Just because we choose to either ignore them or attribute them to higher functions doesn't mean they're not there." He stood up and gave a shrill whistle that echoed around the walls of the gorge they had camped in. Out of nowhere, the wolf that had startled Adahni in the bar bounded down the steep sides of the valley and into the camp. She trotted up to Bishop and sat down obediently, "Her name's Karnwyr. She'll bark loud enough to wake us up if anything as isn't supposed to be here shows up."

    "Why didn't you call her before?" asked Adahni, "All the way up into Luskan territory and back, we could have all gotten more sleep."

    Bishop shrugged, "I asked her to come. She didn't feel like it."

    "What do you mean she didn't feel like it?" asked Adahni, narrowing her eyes.

    "She's not a dog," Bishop said. He reached up and scratched her behind her ears. The corners of her mouth turned up in a very dog-like way as she thrust her head against his chest, "She's not tame. She comes and goes as she pleases, and every so often she feels like doing me a favor. Or you."

    Adahni remembered the little ball of fuzz that had slept on her chest that cold spring day in Luskan. Now the thing was bigger than her, covered in coarse gray hair. Her milky blue eyes had turned yellow, not unlike Adahni's own. But she still seemed good-natured, despite the rusty stains around her muzzle. Duncan pitched the rest of his dinner, which the wolf gobbled down, as well as the remaining three pigeons. Adahni went into the tent and spread out her bedroll. Not anticipating much action, she had taken off her armor and was wearing a wool tunic with leather pants that laced up the sides and did a good job of keeping out the chill. She put her rapier under her bedroll for easy access should there be bandits, and lay down. Duncan flopped down beside her, and the ranger crawled in on the other side. 

    "Try anything and I'll kill you," Duncan muttered into his bedroll.

    "I'd like to see you try," Bishop mumbled back, already half asleep.

    "Shut up, the two of you," Adahni slurred, yawning. Nobody tried anything, as all three of them were dead to the world within minutes.

* * *

    With the wolf guarding them, Adahni felt more secure than usual and, thus, slept better. They camped a few more times, Elanee always disappearing into the trees once the sun went down, and spent nights in Highcliff and Fort Locke on the other two nights. As the sun came up on the ninth day, they found themselves walking the icy path into the village of Westharbor. By now the snow had begun to collect in earnest, smothering the Mere in thick veil of white. The druid took her leave of them near the Illefarn ruins that had started the whole mess, promising to come fetch them four days after Midwinter, as they had planned.

    In the snow, the juniper trees were even more stooped and the eaves of the houses encrusted with icicles. Their boots made dull crunching noises in the fallen snow as they trudged through the empty village center and towards the farmhouse where Daeghun Farlong now lived alone with his thoughts.

    Duncan lifted his hand to knock, but Adahni shoved the door open and walked right in, stomping her boots on mat just inside the door and sitting down to tug them off. Daeghun, much as he had been for her previous return, was sitting in front of the fire, smoking.

    "You shouldn't have returned," he said, not turning around, "You're putting the village in danger. The shard will draw more enemies here."

    "Oh, no worries," Adahni replied nonchalantly, "I left the shards in Neverwinter. There are none with me."

    Daeghun turned, "Still, you endanger the entire village."

    "Why?" she asked, dropping her boots by the door and standing up. She glanced over at Duncan, who was shaking his head to stop her and at Bishop, who was nodding his approval. "Everything that has happened in the past months has told me that the githyanki and their minions are drawn to the shards." She glared at her father, all the bitterness and feelings of betrayal that had nagged her since her encounter with the githyanki queen bubbling to the surface. _Gotcha._

    "I see that you've found out on your own," Daeghun said, simply, "Is that why you've made the long and arduous journey here, to confront me about this?"

    "No, I've come home because it's almost midwinter and, traditionally, one is supposed to go home," Adahni countered, "And your preference that I endanger the thousands of people living in Neverwinter over the dozens living in Westharbor makes me question your interest in the good of this land."

    "Well, you're here now. You might as well stay," Daeghun said, "With the snow falling as it is, the paths will be untraversable by nightfall." He would never acknowledge outright that his daughter was correct, but backing off of his former position was good enough for Adahni, "And I see you've brought my prodigal brother."

    "Nice to see you," Duncan mumbled, his eyes on the floor. Adahni looked from her uncle to her father and back again, and then had a great realization. The two had obviously not been raised together; of course _that _was true. Duncan was in his forties or so, while Daeghun was easily over two hundred. What hadn't occured to her until that point was that Duncan had been raised _by _Daeghun. It would certainly explain a few things, like how disappointed Daeghun was in his brother, as well as Duncan's ambivalence towards Westharbor.

    "And who's this?" Daeghun asked asked, narrowing his eyes at Bishop, his mouth twisting into a scowl that said 'because I don't like the look of him.'

    "He's a stubborn ass, that's who he is," Duncan said, still not meeting Daeghun's gaze.

    "A stubborn ass that's saved you a load of trouble," Bishop replied, "I am just a humble wanderer in search of new places to explore. Never been the Westharbor before, and your daughter insisted on making the trek, so I decided to tag along. Unless, of course, having an extra sword arm in a village that has recently come under attack is a _bad _thing."

    "Your pragmatism slays me," Duncan said sardonically, "There's no getting rid of him." he said, turning to his brother, "I do apologize for dropping in on you like this. She..." he jerked his thumb towards Adahni, "Insisted."

    "No harm done," Daeghun said. If she hadn't known him better, Adahni would have sworn that he was smiling, "Yet, anyhow," he said, catching himself, "I didn't plan on celebrating this year."

    "Seeing as the whole village does it, I should think it would be hard to avoid," Adahni said.

    "We won't be much trouble," Duncan said, "I can cook, and the ass with the bow can fetch us some game. And your daughter can... well... I don't know that she's any good around a house, but I guarantee you won't get broken into."

    "I would like to speak with you," Daeghun said solemnly to his brother, "In private. I had been meaning to send a letter to you, but now that you're here we may speak of it in person."

    "That's it?" Adahni cried, "I show up and in five minutes, you're kicking me out again? Hell of a father you are." She said this only slightly in jest, but sat down on the bench by the door and started tugging her boots on again without any further protest. The ranger, who had not bothered to take his off, told her he'd be waiting outside, and left. 

    She followed him out into the snow. It was up to their ankles by this time, falling in large, feathery clumps from an iron-gray sky. "So what's there to do in this cow town?" asked the ranger. He gazed about at the houses and barns, and out across the fields to the east

    "Same as in any cow town," Adahni said, shrugging, "We work and we get drunk. That's pretty much the whole of it." He rolled his eyes, and she glared at him, "Well it was _your _idea to come. I sure as hell didn't invite you. In fact, it's always been your idea. I didn't want you along to rescue Shandra, I didn't want you along afterwards, and I sure as the hells don't want you along now!"

    Her tirade was interrupted by a blow to the back of her head. She fell flat on her face in the snow, feeling her nose hit something hard and begin to flow. _What in the hells could have followed me back here?! _She rose, drawing her blade, trying at once to scrape the snow from her eyelashes and figure out who had just attacked her. She saw the ranger, who was looking down at her and laughing uproariously. The back of her head was wet and cold, and she feared what had happen. She put a hand to it and felt... snow. She heard a chuckle from behind a tree.

    "Always alert, eh, Farishta?" asked Bishop, "You really ought to pay more attent- " He was cut off by a second snowball, which hit him in the side of the neck.

    "Aw hells no," Adahni groaned. She moved low to the ground, scooping up a handful of snow. Two more icy missiles hit Bishop. This time, she caught the movement behind one of the trees. She walked slowly towards it, careful that her feet didn't crunch, and pounced, thrusting the mound of snow down their assailant's collar.

    He swore and teetered back and forth, trying to shake her off his back until he slipped and felling, sending both of them sprawling. She then toppled him over and rubbed his face in the snow.

    "Uncle! Uncle!" he spluttered, "You win!" She got up, laughing so hard she thought she might fall right over again. She offered him a hand.

    "Nice work, Addie," Bevil said, taking her hand and pulling himself up. His face was rubbed raw from the snow, but his eyes were sparkling as he pulled her to him in a bear hug, "What in the hells are you _doing _here?"

    "Midwinter!" she exclaimed, "Plus it doesn't snow like this in Neverwinter."

    "Who's he?" Bevil asked, jutting his chin out at Bishop.

    "Kyrwan Bishop of Barnslow," Adahni said, "This is Bevil Starling."

    "Call me Bishop," the ranger growled, but grudgingly shook Bevil's hand, "If you hadn't just had your ass handed to you by a girl, I would have a mind to do it myself." He shuddered, "Damn stuff's melting down my back..."

    "So let me guess," Bevil said, "You've been off having all sorts of adventures, slaying the dragon and rescuing the fair maiden?"

    "Somewhat," Adahni said, shrugging, "Can we discuss this over lunch? I've been eating birds and rabbits for nigh on a ten-day."

    At Pitney's, the three of them tore into bowls of stewed mutton and were silent for several minutes as they ate, washing it down with gulps of the sweet wheat ale that Adahni had grown up drinking. The plowboys (and a few girls) that came seasonally to work the fields three seasons out of the year had gone, mostly to work in the cities for the winter, so the inn was pretty empty.

    "So," Bevil said, "You've been away since harvest time, already I see you have two new scars. Who are you travelling with?"

    "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Adahni replied, raising her eyebrows, "Right now my companions include a homicidal dwarf, a tiefling, a pyromaniac sorceress, a paladin of Tyr, a druid of the Mere, a rather effeminate gnomish bard, and this asshole here."

    "Wow," Bevil commented, glancing nervously at the ranger, "I bet you get some stares coming down the street."

    "We do," she replied, "Say, do you remember Cormick?"

    Bevil rolled his eyes, "Hard to forget," he muttered, "Only been trying to live up to him for twenty-four years. Funny how convenient it is for the entire village to forget what a little bastard he was as a child."

    "Well he's a marshall with the City Watch in Neverwinter," Adahni said, "I worked for him, for a time."    

    "What's he like now?"

    "He's all right," Adahni said, "Still a bully, but at least now he's pushing around the right people, as far as I'm concerned. I imagine he'll be riding back to town on a white horse while fourteen virgins scatter rose petals in his path sometime before the holiday."

    Bevil snorted and took a swig of ale.

    "So how've you been holding up?" asked Adahni.

    "I've... I've been all right," Bevil said, "If you're talking about what I think you're talking about. I imagine it's been worse for you."

    "You know," she said, "I lost all of you for so long I still get the feeling that all I have to do is walk by Tarmis's house and she'll be there. I have to keep reminding myself that she's gone."

    Bevil smiled a sad smile and raised his glass, "To Amie," he said gravely. Adahni clinked hers with his, and the ranger did the same, despite having been left squarely out of the conversation, "So you're from Barnslow," he said, turning his attention the Bishop, "My condolences."

    The ranger shrugged, "My family'd all been dead for years by the time that happened," he grunted, "And I can't say I cared much for the rest of them."

    Bevil turned to Adahni with an incredulous look on his face, "Well it's a bad thing, all the same. How many does that make? Three? Four? Lanton, Redcliff, Barnslow..." he shuddered, "Hate to think on it."

    "They're all border towns," Adahni said, "Just on the Neverwinter side. Least we know Westharbor won't meet that fate."

    "Nothing here worth destroying," Bishop said, "Unless you have any native sons with a vendetta."

    "Well," Bevil said mildly, "I don't think we need to worry about that here."


	34. Truths and the Brothers Farlong

At sunset, a few pints in, Adahni was distracting Ward Mossfeld while Bishop moved in on his girl, a plump blond that Adahni would never have imagined was his type. Bevil, who had been ambivalent about the ranger all along, had come to some grudging respect. He'd never quite forgiven Ward for the broken arm that had been bestowed upon him that fall, and watching the man get humiliated as the newcomer slipped out the door with his lady assuaged any doubts he had about him. As they left, Bevil's youngest sister, Emmy, ran into the bar.

"What're you doing in here?" Bevil asked, "This is a grownup place."

"Addie, your da wants you back at the house," she said, ignoring her cousin, "He said if I got you you'd show me a trick."

"A trick?"

"Yeah he said you can do tricks."

"I suppose," Adahni said, smiling at the girl. She picked up a candle and blew it out. Then she blew it on again, letting only a thin finger of flame issue from her mouth so as not to alarm anyone. Emmy looked at her skeptically with the sort of cynicism that only an eleven-year-old could command.

"Do it again," she said.

Adahni obliged her.

"How do you do it?"

"Magic," Adahni replied, entirely honestly.

"I don't believe you," Emmy said, "Tarmis says only people who've studied for years and years can know magic. And you're only a kid."

Adahni laughed a little, "I assure you, I'm not a kid."

"Sure," Emmy said, rolling her eyes, "That was a lousy trick."

"Well, your highness," Adahni said, "With your permission, I'm going to go see my father."

"Fine," she said, "But you better come up with something more impressive than that. No way you can smite evil with that sort of pathetic trick."

Adahni slipped out the back door and into the snow. The sun was a fiery orange over the hills to the west and cast stark shadows upon the snow. The smell of woodsmoke had replaced the swampy smell of spring and summer, which she found comforting. She skipped over the snow and across the bridge, letting herself in the front door again. She found both of the Farlong brothers sitting in front of the fire, waiting for her.

"You came back for a story," Daeghun said by way of hello.

"I did," she replied, looking at Duncan for an explanation.

"Sit down."

There was nowhere left to sit, so she joined them and sat on the hearth with her back to the fire. It was hot, almost too hot, but she supposed she probably could sit right there in the glames and not get hurt.

"Who was my mother?" she asked. She had asked that question almost once a tenday once she had been able to talk. Everyone else except for Amie and Bevil had two parents - even Bevil had a stepdad, though - and it registered with her early on that it was odd for her to only have one, and one that was so obviously unrelated to her. Daeghun had never given her a straight answer. The only things that she had learned was that her name was Esmerelle Maverley and had gotten her with a man named Farishta. Names, though, names meant nothing. They were just noises.

"Esmerelle Maverley was a farmer's daughter, her family had a house further into the swamp where her father had drained some land," Daeghun said, "She was the same age as my brother, and the two of them were quite close."

Duncan bowed his head, staring into the flames.

"So you grew up here too?" Adahni asked, confirming what she had earlier suspected.

Duncan nodded, "I did."

"What happened to your parents?"

Daeghun's mouth set in a hard little line and he knit his brows, "My father Dronyn was killed some fifty years ago. Our mother, Elindra, wed with one of your kind and bore Duncan here." She didn't really like the way he said 'your kind.' He was probably one of those who, although he didn't dislike humans - he lived among them after all - just didn't believe in mixing.

"And then what?"

"Human life is but the blink of an eye to them," Duncan said, "My father died not long after they were wed, of a plague that swept through the land. Our mother... well, we don't know where she went. But she's gone now, and nobody's been able to find her since. Daeghun found me in a Neverwinter orphanage a few months after she left, and took me back here." He looked at Daeghun, "But he told me the whole thing straight out, never hid anything from me."

Adahni caught the barb in his words.

"So what about my mother?"

"Your mother and I were very close," Duncan said, "As he mentioned before. We were betrothed for some months when her parents sent her to Neverwinter to study the arcane arts. She was quite a gifted sorceress, didn't take too kindly to having her head in books all the time. A bit like Qara, I suppose. In any case, I accompanied her there and took a job as a barman. When she left the academy, we travelled the land as mercenaries, presumably to get up enough treasure to buy a house and have a family. But she became separated from us during a battle a month or two later, and we presumed her dead, though we never found a body. I returned here to sort myself out, the rest of our companions scattered to the four winds."

"I thought she died here in West Harbor," Adahni said.

"She did," Daeghun said, "She was missing for a little over a year. Her father had died by this point, and her mother despaired of her ever returning. They lit a candle for her every night, starting at midwinter."

"And?"

"She arrived one evening in the spring looking as though she'd been wandering in the woods for months," Duncan said, "Something was different about her, the spark had gone out of her eyes, she forgot things easily. She didn't even remember me at first. When asked where she had been she answered only that she had danced with the angels. As strange as she had become to me, I would have honored our engagement..."

"But?" Adahni said, backing away from her uncle.

"She told me the child probably wasn't mine," he said, his jaw clenched, keeping his eyes on the fire, "She was honest about that much. And I thought - I thought that it wouldn't matter, that even if the father was human, it might look a little like me, only being quarter elvish and all that, and that everyone would think I was the father and we could build a cottage in the Mere and that would be the end of that."

"And then?" Adahni asked.

"And then you arrived," Duncan said, looking up at her, "Out you came, brown as a hazelnut with yellow eyes like an owl."

"And you left."

"I did," Duncan said, "And I've regretted it plenty, I assure you of that."

Adahni leaned her head against the warm stones of the chimney, "What about my father?"

"We hounded her for that information," Daeghun, "My wife Shayla and I, that is. She stayed with us after Duncan left. Her mother didn't know what to make of you, and was getting on in her years anyway."

"And what did she tell you?'

"All she would say was that she had found herself dying at the edge of the battlefield, and that she had been lifted up by a great bronze angel who danced with her through the clouds."

"And that was Farishta," Adahni said.

"Yes," Daeghun said, "That was the name she had for him. As my brother said, she was never right in the head, even after you were born."

Adahni nodded, "And then she died."

"Yes she did," Daeghun said, "Her whole family was slaughtered in the attack, their house burnt to the ground."

"And where were you?" Adahni asked Duncan.

"I returned to Neverwinter. Used the money that was supposed to be for me and Essie's house and bought the bar," he replied, "I'd washed my hands of this place."

"And me."

"I never stopped regretting what I did to her," Duncan said, "You can be assured of that."

"And me."

"I'm _not _your father," Duncan said, "My conscience is clear on that count."

Adahni nodded curtly, "I see." She thought about Jem Quarely and the baby that wasn't his, and the tale he told about the family that may or may not have been named Bishop. She supposed it could have been worse. There were worse parents than Daeghun, and she suspected that Duncan might have been in that category. Especially if he was ever resentful of her for not being his.

"That doesn't really clear anything up," Adahni said, "But thanks, all the same. I suppose it's nice to know where one comes from, even if the tale itself isn't so nice."

"Where one comes from is one thing," Daeghun said, "There is also the matter of where one went."

"Yes, I imagined you might ask me this," Adahni said, shaking her head, "You know as well as I that I was nothing more than a foolish child."

"You thought yourself in love," Duncan said, "It's not as foolish as all that." Daeghun looked at him sharply.

"Dayven had a dream to join the assassin's guild," Adahni said, "We travelled to Luskan. The war started shortly afterwards. I wanted to come home, I really did, but the roads were blocked by one army or the other, or the bandits that came in their wake."

Daeghun nodded slowly.

"We were married," Adahni said, "But he became someone else, as we lived there, he withdrew into himself and into his guild. After the war ended, I ran away."

"You came back half a year after the war was over," Daeghun said.

"I had some business to take care of," she said. Damned if he was going to get that story out of her. Killing on a battlefield, or when attacked, that was one thing, but thrice damned if Daeghun was going to know that she had stabbed a man between the eyes while his pants were down. She still had some pride, after all. And then, of course, she'd have to tell how Dayven had come to her rescue, how he's kissed her in the threshold, the thought of which still sent a jolt to her nethers and a pang to her heart, and she could no longer blame him for the sorry state she was in when she did return.  
"Who was he?" Duncan asked.

"He was a moonshiner," Adahni said, remembering those lazy summers and autumns, back before they grew up and everything had to be ruined, "He took over his father's still and sold hooch to smugglers who brought it to the cities and marketed it as fine whiskey."

"And you approved of this?" Duncan asked.

"No," Daeghun said, "But my disapproval has never kept any of my charges from straying."

Duncan nodded, looking back into the fire.

"Why'd you run?" Duncan asked.

"I was bored," Adahni replied, smiling a little, "If it hadn't been for the war, like I said, I'd have been back in no time."

"Well you sure gave me a wild goose chase," Duncan said.

"What do you mean?"

"My brother came to me, about two years ago, looking for you. Got me to get off my arse and go looking for you, which I did. We went as far into Luskan as Barnslow... got there after it was a smoking ruin, of course. We would have gone farther if we hadn't received word that you'd returned," Duncan said.

"Why'd you wait until I'd been gone seven years to find me?" Adahni asked, narrowing her eyes at her father, "I thought you said it would've been useless to try to contain me."

"I realized that I made an error, giving up on you," Daeghun said.

"No you didn't. You never admit when you're wrong," she replied, "It has to do with this damn thing in my chest, doesn't it!" She lept to her feet, "That's all I've ever been, a sheath for a piece of some Githyanki sword." She stomped her foot in frustration, "Were I to carve it from my chest I would be uesless indeed!" She snatched her knife from her belt and made as if to do so, but then let it clatter to the floor, realizing all of a sudden how childish she was acting.

"I am glad to have you back," Daeghun said, softly. He had gotten up, ostensibly to stop her, once she had drawn her knife, and put one small hand on her broad shoulder. There was a time when she would have started sobbing, but oddly, she felt no sadness.

"I think there will be a day when we understand each other better," she said.

"You are not unwise, child," her father responded.

She never would have admitted it, but something in her chest swelled with pride at his mild statement. She bowed her head, and sat back down by the fire. "I'll tell you a tale of daring and intrigue," she said, "Of a fair maiden wronged by her traitorous lover."

Duncan looked at her oddly, but Daeghun understood perfectly what was going on. She proceeded to tell them her story, in third person, starring a slightly amplified version of herself that she christened Ayla and her villainous husband who repented at the end, and of course, the unfortunate handmaiden who perished at the hand of a tyrant. The tale ended with a victorious Ayla riding home in state, instead of running barefoot through the swamp... but, well... who was counting?


	35. Murderers

_Last Autumn, Luskan_

* * *

Holding the wooden box underneath his arm, the assassin made his way back from the river. He'd cut the bastard's head, hands, and feet off, thrown those in the river, and then butchered the rest of him like a pig and thrown the pieces to the large crowd of stray dogs that loitered around whenever they smelled blood. _I didn't get to kill him, at least I get to desecrate his corpse,_he thought. Except for the skull, hands, and feet, the bones would be unrecognizeable as human, unless someone were looking.

He hiked up the box under his armpit. It was oozing blood, but that was the reason assassins wore black anyway. Dayven's wife... Addie, would be safe. He trusted that much, though from the looks of it he wondered if she'd ever see out of that eye again.

He wasn't quite sure why he had kissed her, probably either out of disdain for Dayven or out of respect for what she'd done. Despite her bruised and battered appearance - or perhaps because of it - he had desired her. And she'd kissed him back. There was strength in her kiss belied by the delicateness of the rest of her. He touched his lips involuntarily, remembering hers, their softness and the taste of blood in her mouth.

Of course, she'd thought he was Dayven, come through for her at last after she'd supported him countless times. Foolish woman to keep running back to that bastard. Getting away from him was probably the best thing she'd ever do. _I hope I'll be so lucky, _he thought, _I've been waiting too long for my escape. _

Dayven was waiting where he said he'd be, shivering. He was always shivering. The assassin tossed him the box. "This is the last time I do your dirty work, Elhandrien," he said.

"When you've been asked to kill the girl you love, I'll be sure to do you the favor, Bishop," Dayven replied, "Not that I think you capable of loving any girl, but still..."  
"You didn't love her," Bishop said, shaking his head.

"What did you do with the body?" asked Dayven, not bothering to answer the challenge.

"River. Ground'd be too cold to bury her anyway," Bishop replied. He looked up at Dayven. He didn't even look upset, "What do we do with this?" he asked, waving the damp box in front of his face.

"It'll keep," Dayven said, "Come on, let's go have a drink. Hell, I'll even buy you a woman for the night."

Bishop nodded. He'd taken Addie's advice, all those years ago, setting his jaw and bearing it all. He'd worked hard to get where he was, a far cry from the snivelling child who'd sobbed into the arms of a dockside whore. She'd been brave to do what she did, he reasoned, and gotten so banged up in the process. If only he'd shown up earlier... he could have been the one to strike the decisive blow.

_And then what? Grab her around the waist and spirit her back across the border in the dead of night? Take her back to that nightmare of a village you grew up in? Take off into the wilds never to be seen again? Or leave her there at the mercy of that bastard Elhandrien?_

"You know, young Master Bishop," Dayven was saying, "I think it might be time for you to earn your stripes."

"Yeah?" _What reason do I have for being an assassin now? Who in the hells do I have to get revenge on anymore?_He felt elated but a little sickened, reliving what he'd done to the corpse. On the one hand, he longed for the peace of just letting it go, but somehow, even holding his sister's murderer's head in his hands, he didn't want to lose that feeling of power.

"Pick a village, any village," Dayven said. His smile was eerie in the moonlight, "I recommend West Harbor, of course, but any little hamlet will do, really."

He remembered his home, the sound of his father's belt coming loose from its loops, the sounds of Kyla sobbing from the next room, his mother looking him right in the eye as she'd stepped off of the hayloft, the sickening crack of her neckbones snapping. He remembered his neighbors, the sleazy grins on the boys' faces as they winked at him and took his sister off into the night, the hard faces of the old matrons who chased him from their houses, saying they didn't want him around their daughters, even as a child of eight.

"Barnslow," he said, snapping out of it, "Let's burn it."

"Isn't that your..."

"To the ground."


	36. The Midwinter Brawl

_They were lying out in the middle of Barnslow village center, before the fire. Dayven was sipping whiskey out of his flask - a silver affair with a dragon carved around the neck that he had had since she had known him. He leaned over and kissed her every few moments, as though she were an afterthought. The air smelled stale, like tobacco smoke that had hung in the room for a week. She felt sick to her stomach. He kissed her again, only this time he kissed her ravenously, passionately. His fingers went her skirts, pushing them up above her knees, and then he was inside her and they were moving together, her eyes looking past his shoulder at the gray sky. __She felt him climax, and withdraw. He pulled away, his fingers tangled in her air, and it was not Dayven, but Bishop._

_She woke up with a gasp, the sheets tangled around her in a soggy, sweaty mess. She lay there for a moment, her face contorted in disgust, wondering what all it had meant. Her body felt hot, and she was damp between her legs, aroused in spite of herself, "Gross..." she sighed. If there was anything she hated, it was awkward sexual dreams. She got up, stripping off her nightgown and tossing it in a soggy pile in the corner. __Just a dream... just a dream... just a dream, _she repeated to herself, feeling her heart slow down and the panic recede from her throat. She pushed open the shutters. The air was freezing, but it felt good_. _She leaned on window sill, tilting her head up to the sky. It wouldn't be long before midnight, she knew, and despite herself she felt a little anxious.

"Sleeping well there?" an unmistakable voice called. She looked down, and to her horror, Bishop was sitting in the yard tossing a stick for his wolf. The window was narrow, but she crossed her arms over her breasts protectively and ducked down. She reached over and her fingers found a spare tunic, which she slipped over her head.

"What in the hells are you still doing up?" she called and got up again, decent this time.

"Couldn't sleep," he replied.

"Aren't you freezing?"

"I'll survive," he replied.

"Come up, if you want," she said, "No sense in freezing your ass off in the snow just because you can't sleep. Bring the wolf."

She crept down the stairs. Daeghun slept like the dead when he slept. Duncan had rolled his bedroll by the hearth in his brother's room. Bishop let himself in the door and sat down at the kitchen table. "How late is it?"

"Almost midnight. Almost midwinter now," Adahni said, "Where've you been?"

"Here, there. The Mere is an interesting area," he said, "Lots of interesting things to smell."

"I agree, but in the middle of winter?"

"The swamp's frozen solid. Nowhere to fall into," he replied, "I'd say this is the best time. I found something."

He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a dirty glass bottle. She took it from him and holding it up against the candle light.

"Does this have some kind of signficance?" she asked.

"On its own, no," he replied, "But I found it next to the ruin of a whiskey still about twenty minutes into the swamp. I think there might be more."

She got a cloth from the kitchen basin and wiped it clean. The bottle was closed with a wooden stopper than had wax melted around the outside. She breathed an easy spout of flame over it, melting the wax, and pried the stopper out. Bishop took it from her and gave it a sniff.

"Moonshine," he said.

She took it back and took a swig. _She was fifteen years old, lying in the warm embrace of vines as the sunlight filtered down through the trees. She held a letter from the boy she loved in one hand, letting it trail into the murky water of the swamp. He was betrothed, he told her, and was sorry to have led her on, but he would not return for that harvest, or ever. The whiskey that Dayven distilled was strong and raw, but she welcomed it. She'd never been drunk before, and found that something inside her eased and swelled as the trees above her danced lazily around. She looked at Dayven as she never had before, saw that his green eyes were flecked with gray felt the softness of his blond curls. He was like her, abandoned and left to cope. She didn't object when he kissed her, even though she knew her father would never approve..._

"All right there?" Bishop asked.

"This is my husband's whiskey," she said, setting the bottle down, "Brings back memories."

Bishop snorted, "You're still married?"

"Hardly," she said. She had read a few scrolls on the law, and it seemed as though, if a marriage were not performed in a temple or by a religious figure, that its validity only extended to the borders of the country or city-state in which it was performed.

The ranger nodded curtly, "Is it any good?"

"It's rubbish," she replied, "Only reason it's palatable is it's been sitting in the ground for nigh on eight years."

He took it from her and drank some. "Not bad," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"You're going to need it," she said.

"Why?"

She only smile mysteriously and went back up the stairs to her chamber. She had been ill the midwinter before when they came around to collect her for the midwinter brawl, a sort of unofficial, unsanctioned, and generally very dangerous and stupid tradition that had been a part of Westharbor since she could remember. At midnight on midwinter, the self-appointd referees would walk through the vilage in varying stages of undress, collecting all willing participants to go beat the shit out of each other in the village center. While the Harvest Fair was ostensibly for the young people of the village, it was organized by the elders and thus carried the stodgy, dusty sensibility that accompanied them. What happened at midnight on midwinter, though, she felt, better tested the constitution of the village youth for any trials that the cruel world might throw at them. The last man or woman standing won the title of Snow King or Queen, a crown of holly branches, and free ale at the midwinter celebration the following evening.

She changed into her underclothes, lacing her corset tight and tying a loincloth around her bottom. She wrapped herself in a blanket and went back down the stairs.

Bishop looked up at her in surprise, just as a horn blast echoed clearly over the land outside.

"It's midwinter," she said, cracking a sly smile.

"What...?"

The horn blasted again, this time closer.

"What is going on, Addie?"

"It's midwinter," she said again.

There came a rap at the door. She threw off the blanket and ran in her bare feet to open it. A small mob, twenty or so, of the unmarried men and women of the village, bearing torches, greeted her. Ward Mossfeld led them,bare except for a loincloth around his middle. The others were in similar states of undress, all barefoot in the snow.

"It's midnight!" he declared, "You know what that means!"

"The midwinter brawl!" she exclaimed, "Come on!" she beckoned to Bishop, who was staring at her nearly bare form in shock, "Strip down, we're going to the village center!"

"No!" he replied in consternation.

"Do it!" Ward commanded menacingly.

"You're all mad!"

"Perhaps we're sane," Adahni said, "And you're mad!"

"You're tromping about in your underclothes in the freezing weather," Bishop said, his voice sliding back into his familiar sardonic sneer.

"And so will you be!" Ward said, echoed by jeers and encouragements from the crowd.

"A test of constitution," Bevil, who had been standing behind the Mossfeld brothers, explained, "Or are you afraid?"

Bishop's pale eyes flashed, "Afraid?"

"Do it!" the crowd roared.

Obligingly, he stripped off his boots and breeches, down to his small clothes. Adahni first, and then Bishop, followed the mob out into the night. They stopped at several other farmhouses, recruiting two skinny lasses from their beds. Torches were flaming in the village center around a large bonfire.

"Last man standing," she hissed to Bishop.

"What is going on?"

"The midwinter brawl," she said, "Fists and feet. If you're too chicken, you can go back inside where it's warm."  
"You didn't warn me about this..."

"I didn't think you'd be one to back down from a fight in your underwear in the middle of winter," she said, grinning.

She had no further time for explanation as she received a vicious right hook from one of the Lannon girls, a stout redhead who herded sheep by day and drank her sizable weight in beer by night. Adahni went sprawling in the snow, the heat from the bonfire at her back and the chill of the ground vying for a place in her brain. She lept back to her feet. The village center soon erupted into a free-for-all, bare fists and hands flying. She had not fought without a blade for some time. She was not drunk, as she usually was for such brawls, but found an exhilaration in the rawness of it, her feet gradually growing numb in the snow, the sharp scent of woodsmoke in her nostrils. The winner of the midwinter brawl, unlike the harvest brawl, was the one who could stand the cold for the longest, not the last one standing, and would have the privi. She fought the urge to breathe fire over herself to warm herself, and fought on, bravely, until it became too much for her.

As she went to leave the circle of battling bodies, she was tackled.

"No you don't, Farishta," Bishop growled, "You don't drag me into this and then leave me with these barbarians!" He struck her twice, hard, across the face and she felt her nose start to bleed. She struggled, her limbs slick with the melted snow, and managed to wriggle free of his grasp. He had a black eye and scratches on his arms consistent with a woman's long nails. She spat a mouthful of blood into his face and kneed him in the stomach while he struggled to wipe it from his eyes.

"You bitch!" he gasped, doubled over. She smiled a bloody smile, and while he was nearly on the ground, she took a flying leap in the air and landed with her elbow in the small of his back. He struck back this time, the base of his hand connecting with her chin and clattering her teeth together something awful.

The free-for-all, at that point, became a duel. She dipped and swerved, trying to stay out of his way as he struck out at her with fist and elbow.

"Come on, Addie!" she heard Bevil's cheer, "Show him what Harbormen are made of!"

She was distracted for a moment and Bishop took the opportunity to force her down and rub her bleeding face in the snow. She held her breath, unable to get any air with her nose and mouth plugged with cold, but managed to roll over and put a knee between his legs. He went down, this time for good. She roared her victory for a brief moment before someone hit her from behind, hard, and she went down, stars spinning behind her eyes and the world slowly fading to black about the edges.

* * *

When she awoke, she was at home, in bed, and someone had had the decency to cover her now torn corset with a blanket. Warmth had returned to her limbs, but she was bruised sorely and her nose was plugged, probably a result of the blow to her face that her comrade had given her. She rose and clothed herself gingerly in her holiday dress, a high-waisted dark green affair that had been a gift to her the midwinter before. She tightened the laces up to her collarbone.

Examining her face in the mirror, she had only suffered one marring injury, a small laceration above her left eyebrow, but her cheeks and nose her chapped and painful. She rubbed her face with a fingerful of beeswax balm, a jar of which she kept by her bedside, which restored a glow to her skin and eased the pain. She combed her hair out then and, because she expected she would be set to work above a steaming pan, pinned it up and covered it with a white kerchief. Except for the cut and the bruises on her arms and legs, she could have passed as a proper lady, the wife of a farmer or something.

She padded down the stairs to where Duncan, Daeghun, and Bishop were seated at the kitchen table, eating pieces from a pan of shortbread. There was a chicken roasting over the fire and potatoes in the ashes. Considering Daeghun had not known, first, that she was returning, and second, that she was bringing Duncan and another guest, he had managed in the tenday she had been home to prepare himself for the holiday.

"There you are," Duncan said, a half smile playing about his mouth, "So, I hear you took quite a drubbing."

"I put up a good fight," she said.

"My bets were on you. Wouldn't have expected the Starling kid to hit you from behind like that," Bishop said. His eye had swollen, but he didn't seem to be in much pain, "Well I'll be thrice damned, you actually resemble a woman today."

"_Bevil_ hit me?"

"That he did," Bishop replied.

"Why that little..." she fumed, "Ah, I won't begrudge him victory."

"He didn't win, well... the brawl, anyway. A couple of village lasses took him down. He didn't seem to mind," Bishop said, smirking, "Carried one of them home, giggling like a maniac, over his shoulder."

Adahni nodded., "So who won?"

"One of the Mossfelds. Wastrel or Whelp or whatever horrid name they gave their inbred spawn."

Duncan spat out the hot cider he was drinking and laughed so hard that Daeghun gave him a sterner look than Adahni could ever remember receiving from him. "What?" Duncan said, "They're second cousins, everyone knows that!"

They ate their midday meal with ale, even Daeghun seeming a little merry to have two of his charges back under his wing, whatever unsavory company they had brought with them. Adahni forgot the beating she took the night before and felt more at home than she ever had before. As cold as her father's reception had been, he seemed genuinely pleased to have her back. In his own, unsmiling, Elvish way of course.

When the chicken was a carcass and the potatoes a memory, the four of them lolled in their chairs. There would be a dance in the inn later that day, dancing and carousing and whatever Mossfeld won the brawl lording it over the room wearing a crown of holly. Adahni sighed in contentment and listened to the men talking about something inane, as men were wont to do. She had several hours to lie back and digest before she would, no doubt, be called upon to play.

She did not know how many minutes or even hours had passed when there came a rap on the door. At first it was soft, but then, as Adahni crossed the room to open it, it came again, louder and more urgent. She pulled the door open to see a familiar set of armor standing behind it.

"Casavir?" she exclaimed, "What in the nine hells are you doing here?"

"My lady!" he said, "You... look like a lady!"

"I will take that as a compliment," she said, "But what are you doing here?"

Daeghun joined her at the door, narrowing his eyes at the newcomer.

"I had to come, had to warn you..." he said, looking from her to Daeghun and back again.

"Come in," Daeghun said, "You can explain it to us in front of the fire."

Casavir strode in, locking eyes with Bishop. Adahni felt the animosity in the air like a crackle of lightning.

"I am sorry for my rudeness," he said, giving a slight bow to Daeghun, "I am Casavir, a companion of your daughter's."

Daeghun nodded.

"Warn me about what?" Adahni asked. She found herself involuntarily putting her hands on her hips like an irate mother.

"The Watch has issued a warrant for your arrest," he said.

"For what?" she asked, thinking about the great number of things she had done that would merit such a circumstance, "I've only been here ten days, what is the problem?"

"The village," he said, "Ember, the one we passed through, has been sacked. Burned, pillaged, the villagers murdered in their beds... it is no more. And they accuse you."

She stood there for a moment, images of the green, peaceful village fleeting through her head. "How could... But I've been here for the past ten days!" she exclaimed, "Of all the ridiculous...who is my accuser?"

"I am unsure of that," Casavir replied, "Sir Nevalle, Lord Nasher's right hand man came by the inn looking for you. I convinced him not to pursue you, to let me ask you to come quietly first."

"I thought you were something of a persona non grata among the knights in Nasher's service."

"I am," Casavir said, "But Nevalle and I have known each other for some time."

"But..."

"I have known him for a long time and know a few things about him," the paladin said, one corner of his mouth perking up in a slight smile.

"Thank you, I suppose," she said, "So what now?"

"You return to Neverwinter immediately," he said, "Or they send a party to arrest you and bring you back forcibly. In front of the entire village."

"Happy fucking midwinter," she muttered. Her head ached from the blow she had taken, "I'm sorry, Cas, to have caused to so much trouble," she said, putting a hand on her arm, "It must have been quite a journey to take alone." In her peripheral vision, she saw Bishop rolling his eyes.

"It was nothing," he said, "If you return now, it will prove the purity of your intentions. You must turn yourself over."

"I have every intention of doing so," she said, looking at her father. Daeghun nodded gravely.

"Pack your things," he said, "You should leave as soon as possible."

"Khelgar is at the edge of the village. We took the liberty of hiring horses..."

"Horses?"

"...with the gold in your chest," he said, a little sheepishly.

"Whatever has to be done," she sighed, "All right, then, I suppose I'll get my things together."

Adahni turned her back on them so nobody could see the tears in her eyes. Each footstep felt leaden, falling heavily onto the floorboards as she dragged herself up the stairs. She remembered the horrid smell of the fires in Barnslow, the shrieks of people she was powerless to save. When she had said those things to the girl in Ember - that she ought to learn to fight or would die the next time - she hadn't thought it would actually come to pass. She regretted her words, and her failure to keep the ranger from opening his mouth. And that boy, the little boy who had seen it... and said that he would survive.

_I've got to find him, _she thought, _I need to know what happened. _


	37. Guilty

Adahni had decided, after five days of alternately riding in the uncomfortable rented saddle of an uncomfortable rented mare and in overpriced inn rooms and haylofts, that she much preferred walking, no matter how cold the weather. Her mount was ill-tempered and smelled vile. She was almost looking forward to the ordeal she would face once she rode back through Neverwinter's walls. The pain in her behind, however, was nothing compared to the icy silence she endured from both the dwarf and the paladin the entire way. _They think I'm guilty, _she thought to herself. Upon returning to the city, she and Duncan hurried back to the inn while Khelgar, who scarcely spoke two words and avoided her gaze the entire way, took the horses back to the stable from whence they came. There was not the posse of watchmen Adahni had expected when she returned to the Flagon, only her old companions, all of whom mumbled their greetings and avoided her gaze. Only Neeshka walked up to greet her, and did so solemnly, her dark red eyes large and scared.

"I didn't _do _it," Adahni said, sighing.

"I know you didn't do it," Neeshka said, "I'm just saying... you go disappearing with that ranger for nearly a month... and everyone knows he's a bad egg..."

"I didn't do it!" she repeated, "I went right back to West Harbor, ask Duncan!"

"Well of course he would cover for you," she replied, "He's your uncle and all... I mean I trust you, but... it looks pretty bad."

Adahni did not have to wait long. Khelgar and Casavir returned from the stables, holding the door behind them for a man wearing a tunic emblazoned with the blue eye of Neverwinter. Adahni looked him up and down. She was not a little irked by the way her companions were treating her. Neeshka was right, it _did _look bad, but after all they had been through? Not even the benefit of the doubt? She stepped closer to Casavir, who still radiated an aura of calm, and waited for the man to speak. The paladin leaned in close to her. "That's Nevalle," he said, "The one I told you about."

"There you are," he said, looking her in the eye.

"And how can I be of assistance?" she asked, gazing back at him levelly.

"I am here because Luskan has accused you of murder - an entire village, no less. Have you heard of Ember?"

"I didn't do it," she said.

"Listen," he said, approaching her, "I've scraped things from my boot that I respect more than Luskan. But unless we find some means of clearing you of these charges, we will have to surrender you to them. We've signed a treaty - they have a right to dispense low justice for any crimes committed on their soil."

Adahni set her jaw.

"But..." he said, looking her up and down, "I'm not turning over a loyal member of the Watch to some Luskan dog on this day or any other."

"Well good," she said, "Because I didn't do it."

"You can repeat that all day and all night," he said, "But your guilt is preordained in a Luskan court. Now... if you were a lady, a knight, or even a squire, then matters would be different. You would be subject to high justice, and your trial would take place here in Neverwinter before Lord Nasher."

"Impressive," Adahni said, "I'm glad to hear that classism is alive and well. As much as I would like to protest such a double standard... I like my skin more. So what do I do?"

"I need you to go see Sir Grayson, one of the Lord Nasher's most trusted knights, and become his squire. I also may send a friend of mine to assist you. Mind you, the matter must still go to trial, and if you cannot prove your innocence..."

"Long drop short stop," she said, "I know the drill."

"You can find Grayson in Brelaina's office. And, since you know the drill so well, I won't have to remind you not to leave town."

She nodded. Nevalle gave her a cursory bow, turned on his heel, and swept out of the inn as suddenly as he'd come.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"For the love of all the gods, I didn't do it!" she cried after a moment of it, "Duncan, tell them!"

"We went straight to Westharbor and came straight back," Duncan said, "No slaughtering, burning, rape, or pillaging."

"Unfortunately," Bishop muttered.

"It's just..." Khelgar said, "All those people... and you did just take off rather suddenly."

"Khelgar..." Adahni said, her heart sinking. If he didn't trust her, then no wonder none of the others did, "How could you even think that?"

He nodded, but still looked at her with suspicion.

"No matter," she said, sniffling a little, "I suppose I will just have to prove it to you along with the rest of Neverwinter."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ironfist," Bishop snapped, "You know she didn't do it."

"I know _she _didn't do it," Khelgar said, "Or at least, that it wasn't her idea."

"Are you accusing me of something, half-man?" Bishop asked.

"Stop being ridiculous," Duncan said, "She's not been out of my sight for more than a few hours for the last moon, the most damage she's done is to her own damn liver. And no way in the hells will I let those Luskans get their hands on you."

"Yes," Casavir said, "Whether she is innocent or guilty should be decided by her own liege."

"Cas... not you... you cannot possibly think that I..."

"I do not," he replied, "If I thought for a minute that you were guilty of the crime of which you were accused I would have let them drag you from Westharbor in chains."

She nodded, the pain in her insides easing a little.

"Go to see the knight," Shandra said. Adahni looked over at her. She was sitting in the shadows at the corner of the bar. There was something different about her. She sat straighter, her shoulders back proudly, "Luskan won't be able to touch you."

"Aw, Addie," Neeshka said, "The slaughter of an entire village? That's going too far, even by Luskan standards."

Adahni had already started shaking her head in disagreement when Bishop spoke up. "Is it? If you have something Luskan wants, they'd kill any entire city for it. They don't care."

He was interrupted by a gust of icy wind that followed the latest guest into the inn. Silhouetted against the sunset stood a small, familiar figure. Adahni took a moment to place him, but then recognized that hedge wizard that she had encountered on her first day in Neverwinter.

"Oh... as if the day couldn't get any worse," Duncan growled, "What do you want, Sand?"

"I am here to help you," Sand announced, looking up at Duncan, "And your - " his steely eyes glided across the room to Adahni, " - kin, actually. Know that if you are sent to Luskan, you will be killed."

"If I were in Luskan I would probably be begging for death," Adahni said.

"I realize," Sand said, looking at her pointedly with something like sympathy, "That you might find my sincerity difficult to believe, but allow me to act on your behalf. There are laws, and there is right and wrong. While I believe you are quick to take liberties with the law, I do not believe you are guilty of this... and if they should get ahold of you..." He drew a finger across his slim throat and made a guttural squeak. "You see, I believe people should answer for their crimes, but it must be just."

"So what is it, exactly, that you suggest we do?"

Qara sneezed twice into her hand, making a noise that sounded like 'hedge wizard' and 'incompetent.'

"If we need to burn down Luskan, then parhaps we shall seek you, Qara, but your ignorance will cause more damage here than you spark of magic you think you have, you idiot girl, they will bleed from you by demon, spell, and curse until even your father won't be able to save you."

"Well you seem to have this all figured out, Master Sand," Adahni said, "Care to enlighten me?"

"Let me come with you to see Sir Grayson... I have considerable experience with these matters - and foiling Luskan plots is something I relish."

"I'm with you as well," Shandra said, sliding off the bar stool.

"All right," Adahni said, "Let's see what you're made of."

"Well I wouldn't want to miss you becoming a squire," Bishop said, "How's that for farce of the century..."

"I'll come." Neeshka volunteered.

Adahni looked at her witheringly, "Casavir? I'd like to bring along people who actually believe that I'm innocent. The rest of you..." she tried to think of something appropriately scathing to say to them, but just turned her palm to them and stalked out of the door into the winter night.  
They were met outside by a woman with a man's haircut, her brows thick and black over icy green eyes. "You," she said accusingly, "You are the one who travels with Neeshka."

"I did travel with Neeshka," Adahni said, the betrayal still pricking her in the heart.

"Tell her Tasha is looking for her. I've got some news that I know she'll want to here."

"Not likely," Adahni said, "Thanks anyway... now if you don't mind, I've got somewhere to be."

"She'd be intereted if you mentioned that she is going to be beaten to the greatest score in all of Neverwinter. And she'd be especially interested if she knew who's pulling the job."

"I don't have time for this," Adahni said, trying to step past the woman.

"You know... I'll just wait until you get back."

"Whatever you want," Adahni sighed, glad to be rid of her.

* * *

Considering the gravity of the situation, Adahni was surprised to find Brelaina laughing and flirting with a blue-cloaked man who must have been Grayson. Adahni approached him cautiously, and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and looked her up and down. He wasn't terribly old, probably in his mid thirties, but his face was marred with frown lines and there was a permanent crease between his eyebrows, probably from furrowing them so much.

"Blessings of Tyr be upon you, Adahni. Sir Nevalle has told me of your predicament, and it so happens that I have need of a Squire. This is _unusual_ to say the lease. Usually, prospective squires spend months - even years - _proving_ themselves before they are permitted to enter the nobility. But of course, they are also usually much younger than yourself. But Brelaina vouches for your character and your ability. Still... count yourself lucky to avoid years of caring for my horse and scouring the rust from my arms and armor. Your need is a great and so I will take you as my charge."

"And that's it?" Adahni asked, turning her head and peering at him sideways.

"Learn your place, squire, and speak when ordered to," Sir Grayson barked.

"Who in the hells do you think you - " Bishop started to protest, but Casavir stepped on his foot heavily.

"I am Sir Grayson Corett," he bellowed. Adahni had to put a hand to her mouth and pretend to cough so she would not burst out laughing, "My sword is sworn to Nasher, Neverwinter, and Tyr. And it falls to me to teach you_ chivalry_, so that you will not _dishonor_ me ovremuch as your knight."

Adahni sighed, "Let's get this charade over with."

"The brotherhood of knights," he began, looking over her shoulder and making eye contact with Casavir, "Is one _bound _by the ideals of _chivalry _and _honor._ Without honor," he said, glancing and Adahni, but shifting his gaze back to Casavir, "A knight is nothing more than an animal with a sword. To be a knight is to lead a life of _duty _and _responsibility._"

Adahni glanced back at her companion, who was scowling at Grayson.

"We are bound by a code that prescribes our every action," Grayson continued, "To be brave and valorous in battle against your enemies, to show no fear in their presence. To be _just_ and _righteous_, to embody and uphold the _laws_ of your lord and land. To be respectful to your enemies and kind to your fellows. To protect the weak and those who cannot defend themselves. All squires have these rules impressed upon them by rote and lash. But I suspect that you are mature enough to take the lesson without the cuffing."

"Words are words," she said, "I will consider them."

"Knowing that code of conduct is important, but living by that code is paramount. To be a knight is also to live a life of _service_ to your lord and realm. You will be expected to perform certain _duties_ for the crown. Given your unique circumstances, these duties will be waiting for you after the trial. However, there is one observance that cannot be postponed- the vigil."

"Go on."

"Enough rules and traditions have already been_ bent_ to accomodate you needs. One night is not so terrible a sacrifice. Your vigil is a time for reflection and contemplation. It is a sacred tradition - all who would become squires spend a night in the Solace Glade. You must spend the night alone, of course. Most choose to reflect on thier vows, or to ask the blessing of their gods. On the next morning, I will welcome you into our brotherhood."

"Well I suppose freezing my ass off in some glad isn't so bad, and there's no time like the present."

"Come then," he said, "I will lead you to the Solace Glade."

"A moment, Sir Grayson," Casavir said, "I would have a word with my companion."

"What is it?" she asked, turning to him.

"In private."

She followed the paladin out into the chill outside.

"It has been years since I took my vows," he said softly as soon as they were out of earshot, "But I still keep them in my heart.'

"What..."

"I would hope that you would take this seriously," he said, "I need to know, Addie, did you kill those people?"

"No!" she exclaimed, "Have you not been hearing me for the past six days?"

He seized her chin and tipped her face up to look her in the eyes. She glared back at him, looking at his eyes searching hers for the truth. "Cas, I didn't. I couldn't. I was in Barnslow the night it burned, the things I've seen... how could you even think me capable of that?"

His grip on her face softened but did not let up, "We are all capable of many things that might surprise us," he said, "I would hate to see you walk down a path of darkness."

"Well good thing I'm about to be leading a life of _duty _and _responsibility," _she said, imitating Sir Grayson.

The paladin chuckled, "He is a bit of a blowhard, isn't he," he said.

"Cas... you don't really think I did it, do you?"

"I don't know what to believe," he said, "Sometimes, men and women do things you would never expect from then in a thousand years."

"But me?"

"You... I would not expect you to do anything of the sort." He chuckled again and released her from his grip, "I would have been proud to have you as my squire."

And then, he did an odd thing. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head through the kerchief she wore. She could hardly disguise her grin as she returned to Sir Grayson and followed him through the city gates and into Solace Glade.


	38. Then Will My Love Return to Me

As anticipated, the night was cruelly frigid outside Neverwinter's walls. Grayson had taken his leave of her as the last rays of sunlight finally disappeared over the horizon, giving her the same spiel about fellowship, honor, and all that. Rather than offer her prayers to Oghma or Mystra or whoever she felt like this week, she preferred to sit huddled against the cold wind. Her thoughts, instead of being occupied by the knighthood, were occupied by a certain former knight. _Why did he do that? _she thought, _Surely he wouldn't have kissed a male squire on the crown of his head._

_She rummaged through her pack. The idea had been taking shape in her mind for some time. Making any sort of advance that was not drunken in nature required a kind of delicacy and elegance from a bard. She had a few blank scrolls here and there where she wrote the odd verse when the inspiration struck her. She had not felt the urge to do so in some time, but managed to locate one rolled tightly in the corner of her pack. Rolled in the middle of it was a sharpened juniper twig, which took ink well. Lacking ink, she reached into the small fire she had lit and took a small charred branch and crushed it between her fingers. She wiped the soot onto a rock and spat in it, mixing it with more and more spittle until it became useable. Dipping her makeshift pen into the mixture, she began to write. It would be a collection, a setting down in writing of all the songs she had heard but never seen written. She would ask him to read it over, for grammar or something. If he rejected her, she could feign ignorance,that it was, after all, only a collection of verse. Nothing personal._

She started with standard love songs she knew, writing down version after version. _When cockle shells turn to silver bells... then will my love return to me. When roses grow in the wintry snow... then will my love return to me... _Her own words... her own words she would save for last, plant them among the words of others like wild daisies that invaded the well-manicured rose gardens of the wealthy.

She was engrossed after a few hours, so much so that she did not hear the crunch of Shandra's boots in the snow until the farmer was emerging from the darkness before her eyes.

"Are you here?" she called, "I can barely see anything out here."

"Is something wrong?" she asked, hastily rolling up the scroll and stuffing it back into her pack.

"Look, the way trouble follows you, there's no way I'd let you come out here alone."

Adahni smiled a little, appreciating that Shandra seemed to be warming to her even after all that she'd put her through, "This ceremony's a sham anyway, you may as well stay. Come on, sit by the fire. You must be freezing."

"Well, I'm glad you offered, because I wasn't leaving anyway. But, I like that you didn't put up much of a fight. Plus, I wanted to see if any of the gods would want to inflict further punishment on you."

Adahni chuckled. Shandra sat down by the fire and leaned into it, twitching her nose as though it had gone numb. She sat there for a moment, but then sat bold upright. "Hey, did you hear something?"

Adahni started to say something, but Shandra shushed her, pointing out into a small stand of trees. Adahni looked up to see three figured emerging from there. All she could see were silhouettes, but it looked like two half-orcs and a man.

"I didn't expect the girl to be here. We'll spare her the grief of crying over your corpse and kill her as well," the man said. He sounded tired, and there was a certain bitterness to his voice.

"I'm right here, you know," Shandra said, wheeling and squinting to get a glimpse and their assailants.  
"Well, I'm glad you showed up," Adahni said, slowly rising, "I was getting bored!"

"Excellent," the man growled, "Let the entertainment begin!"

Adahni stayed close to the ground. Her eyes were not what they once were in the dark. But she got the hang of it soon enough. They fought like assassins, darting in, and then dancing back, even the half orcs. Soon she had one pinned to the ground and was forcing his blade back towards him. She squinted down at him, and then started back in horror. "_Grumph?" _she exclaimed, "What..."

_That was a mistake, _she thought as the half-orc, the creature that used to... used to _own _her thrust his sword up through the gap in her armor, goring her in the belly. Her eyes went wide, and she retched, but managed to pull herself off. Her hand groped under her chainmail to hold the oozing wound together. Shandra had, meanwhile, dispatched the other half-orc, who Adahni realized must have been his brother, and rushed to her aid. As the world went hazy before her eyes, she saw Shandra thrust her short sword into Grumph's neck and down, piercing his lungs. She felt the shower of blood and saw the farmer pull her sword free and kick the soon-to-be corpse to the frozen ground.

"Shan-" she called as she saw the third assassin, their leader, melt out of the shadows and raise his club, but it was too late. He brought it down on the farmer girl's head, and she crumpled to the earth with a sickening 'crack.' Adahni shook her head and struggled to rise, only succeeding in worsening her state. Her left hand found her rapier, standing up in the snow. If she was going to die by an assassin's blade, damned if she was going to do it without putting up a fight first.

She raised the sword, its hilt on her chest, and looked her assailant in the eye. In the flickering firelight, a set of angry green eyes stared back at her. But instead of drawing his blade to finish her, the assassin pushed off his hood and knelt by her side.

He was older and grimmer looking, his face drawn and pale and his eyes two green pools in deep hollows. His cheeks were sunken in. He was still missing that front tooth that the thugsh ad knocked out of him the day after she'd lost the child, but it was him.

"You..." she hissed.

He didn't say anything, but raised his sword to cut her throat.

"I know that's not you," she muttered, "It's like Jem said, when you lose blood you start to go all funny in the head. I know they hung you."

He looked at her oddly, peering at her in the firelight. He didn't seem to recognize her, but was acting interested in what she had to say.

"So this is the second time you were sent to kill me," she said. She tasted blood in the back of her throat, wondering if a second knife wound in her would even be necessary, "Why did you let me go the first time if you were only going to kill me now?"

"Listen, lady," Dayven - for it was Dayven - growled, "I don't know if you're a ghost or an apparition or what, but I held your heart in my very hand and I _know _you're not who I think you are." He struck at her. She summoned all of her strength and rolled out of the way.

"Why are you..."

"I don't fail in my tasks," he growled, "I don't know what necromancer summoned you from the grave to torment me, but I will have _his_ heart as well!" He raised his sword again.

"But you let me go!" she cried.

"I what?" he said. He let his blade go.

"You let me go. You showed me the note... and then you took Evendyn Claven's heart instead of mine, and you said you would dump the body..." she said, "And then you pushed me out of the door! Why would you have done that, only to run me through now?"

"I did nothing of the sort," he said, narrowing his eyes, "I snapped your neck like all the others." He raised his sword again.

"Liar," she said, the realization sweeping over her, "That wasn't you, was it? You sent someone else to do your dirty work!" All this time she had convinced herself that he had come to rescue her in the end, and had sacrificed himself so that she could escape. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have even thought that he would have... Furious with herself for believing such a lie, she gathered the strength to thrust up with her rapier, impaling his thigh. Furiously, she tugged it sideways and snapped the blade off in his leg. He howled like an angry child and backed off.

"I don't care," he said, hobbling backwards, "I don't know why she bothered to send me tonight. You're going to hang anyway!"

"Why would I hang if I'm already dead?" she shot back, "Run back to Luskan, and may Cyric's Madness embrace you tighter than I ever did!" She threw the ragged hilt of her rapier after him. She felt a little sorry for the demise of her blade, which had served her well ever since Neeshka had lifted it from that weapons shipment... but if Neeshka didn't even trust her enough to believe her when she told her she didn't slaughter a village then she didn't need her and didn't need any of her damned thief's gifts either. She let her left hand join her right in holding together the flesh of her belly. The cold seemed to be stopping the blood some.

_"When cockle shells... turn to silver bells_

_Then will my love return to me..." _she sang to herself, focusing on her wound.

_"When roses grow in the wintery snow..._

_Then will my love return to me..."_

She felt the blood flow lessen. She wasn't powerful enough to heal a wound this deep on her own, but she could close it, mostly, so it would heal on its on.

_"Oh well love be bonny and gay as a jewel when first it's new_..."

She managed to rise to her feet, keeping pressure on her wound, and stagger towards Shandra. She was breathing and grinding her teeth.

_"But love grows old... and waxes cold... and fades away like morning dew_..."

She tucked her knees up against her chest, feeling the cold hurt inside of her, more painful than steel blades. He hadn't come for her. He hadn't saved her. If it had been him in the room with her, he would have snapped her neck and cut her heart from her body without a second thought. She was nothing to him. Nothing at all_._

_"Oh had I known before I wed..._

_That love would be so hard to win_

_I'd locked my heart in a golden box_

_And fastened it with a silver pin_..."

Shandra opened her eyes, holding her head in her hands, "What happened?" she asked.

"You took a beating. As did I."

"What were you singing for?"

"Cas isn't here to heal us. I do what I can."

Shandra smiled and nodded, "I'll do you one better." She sat up and fished around in her pack, finding two small vials, each containing an azure liquid. "Cheers."

"Cheers," Adahni replied. They clinked them like they would ale tankards and drank them down. Adahni felt a rush of life to her body and the pain leave her.

"You saved my life," she said, "Thank you."

"Just returning the favor," Shandra replied, "I did some thinking, in between dodging blows from the dwarf and the paladin, while you were gone. I've come to the realization that all that mess with the lizardmen and githyanki would have gone on whether or not you had been involved. And if you weren't, I would probably be dead by now."

"I was wondering how long it would take you to come to your senses," Adahni replied, smiling, "Hey... Shandra. Do you think I did it?"

"Not for a moment," the farmer replied, "I've taken it up with the rest of our companions as well. I don't know why they doubt you."

"I don't either," she said, "I'm not... I'm not a _good _person, Shandra. But I'm not a bad one either. People seem to think that if you're not one you must be the other. Maybe I wouldn't go out of my way to have saved Ember, if I had even been there, if there were some greater purpose to its destruction... but I would certainly never have gone out of my way to destroy it. And they're right, I am a little flippant when it comes to the law, but... it just doesn't make any sense. I've always said... do whatever it takes to get the task done and don't let anything get in your way. How would destroying Ember have anything to do with my task?"

"It wouldn't," Shandra said, "And I am going to have to disagree with you on one count there, Farishta."

"And what's that?"

"I think you're afraid to admit it, but deep down somewhere down there, you are a good person."

She smiled a little, "I will take that as a compliment."

"Good," Shandra said, "Now you ought to get back to contemplating, or praying, or whatever the hells it is you are supposed to be doing out here. I'll leave you to it."

"Hey Shandra?" Adahni said as the farmer got up to leave.

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

She smiled a little, and Adahni turned back to the fire. The potion had eased the pain in her body, but her heart still felt as frigid as the wintery meadow around her. She went into her pack to find the scroll she had been writing on, but as she tried to continue her work, she found that she had bled all over it. Her words were still visible on the parchment, but stood out black against crimson, which would soon dry to dark rust and obscure them at all. She tossed the scroll into the fire, cursing herself for her foolishness. The parchment crackled and curled up. She caught a glimpse of the last words on the page as it was blackened into nothing.

_Must I be bound while you go free, to love a man who won't love me..._

_Was I born with so little art as so love a man who breaks my heart?_


	39. The Nasty Business of War

Shandra returned after about twenty minutes, out of breath and panting. "He's nowhere to be found," she said, "I don't know how he could move so fast with a wound like that, but he's up and disappeared. He left bloody footprints up to a creek a half a mile away, and then they just stopped."

"So he's gone?"

"I found this," Shandra said, pressing a hoop of cold metal into Adahni's palm, "It looks like a circle of spikes. He must have dropped it."

"Looks like a circle of daggers," she said, examining the ring.

"Could be, I suppose. It's hard to tell with all the blood. Look, maybe I better slip away before your knight returns. I don't want you getting into any trouble."

"Thanks," she said, "And thanks for following the assassin. This could prove valuable."

Shandra walked off back towards the high walls of the city. Adahni sat there for a few more hours, stirring the embers with a stick. _Ember, _she thought. Poor village. Poor sad little town. She tried to feel sorrow, remorse, something, but she was numb. Dayven was alive, probably in the throes of Cyrics Madness, probably running back to Luskan with his tail between his knees.

She must have dozed off, for she was awakened by the early morning sunlight and Sir Grayson standing over her.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I was attacked by Luskan assassins," she said, "They are no longer a problem."

"No doubt they caught wind of our plan, and saw this as their last chance to judge you as they wished."

Adahni, still disturbed, rose to her feet.

"You slew these two half orcs all on your own?"

"I did," she replied.

"Impressive," he grunted, "All right, then, I will take you as my squire. You are now a member of the nobility, for truly, there can be no charge nobler than protecting one's home from those who would threaten it."

"Would that all human impulses were so noble," Adahni snorted.

"Come. Nasher should be informed of your change in station."

Adahni felt a little nauseous as they tromped back towards the city. She always felt sick when she had not slept well, and the bright sunlight reflecting off the snow irritated her eyes. She stumbled through the streets after her knight, who seemed completely oblivious to her discomfort. She followed him back through the city gates, back into the Blacklake District, which was much less formidable in the daylight, and up to the gates of Castle Never.

The throne room was just as ostentatious as she had imagined it to be, hung with blue and gold and tapestries of battles past. Nasher himself, bald and bearded, sat in state, the golden crown of Neverwinter on his head. To her relief, Adahni saw some of her companions, including Sand, standing in front of him, waiting for her.

"Sir Grayson!" Nasher boomed, his voice deep and reassuring, "A pleasure to see you."

"It is my honor to serve, my lord," Grayson said, bowing clumsily.

"What brings you here? You look troubled," Nasher said.

"My lord, it has come to my attention that this woman stands accused of murder and is to be given over to Luskan for trial."

"What you have heard is true," Nasher said, his cold blue eyes sliding towards Adahni. She had never felt smaller, or more insignificant, in her life, "Is that why you are here?"

"I am here because this woman is my squire," Grayson said, not a hint of deceit in his voice, "And must be tried by your hand and the will of the gods alone."

"What is this nonsense?" a high-pitched whine issued from the woman standing next to him. Adahni leaned forward to get a closer look. She was in her forties, but trying to look younger, her face caked with paint. She had her hair cut short, which did nothing for her rather manly cheekbones, and the collar of her dress jutted up high behind her head,"This knight has no squire."

"I would choose your words carefully, ambassador, lest I think you were accusing one of my knights of speaking lies," Nasher said, narrowing his eyes.

_Ambassador? _Adahni's thoughts raced in fourteen different directions. _This _haughty creature was the Luskan ambassador? Torio? The wife of that brute Evendyn? No... his widow. Adahni, who had never prayed to excess suddenly found herself piously asking every God there was to make sure that the woman didn't know what had happened to her husband. The Ember charge she could shed like water off a duck's back, but if the truth came out...

"I only hear the words of a man shielding a murderer," the ambassador continued, looking at Adahni with cold disdain. _If she knows, she's not saying it now. And why trump up the slaughter of a village if they knew that I had slain a nobleman? _She felt her face grow hot. Suddenly, even the vast throne room seemed unbearably small, and her only thought was to get out, out into the snow where she could breathe. As much as it twisted her heart to hear it, Torio was right. She was a murderer, perhaps not in the eyes of anybody who actually knew the situation, but under the cold gaze of the law it didn't matter how many young women Evendyn had killed, he was still protected.

"Then let the accused speak," Nasher said, his eyes gliding back to Adahni, "What say you, does my knight speak truly? Are you his squire?"

Adahni, who had been at a loss for words perhaps six or seven times in her twenty-four years in the world, found her voice catching in her throat. "I... I am his squire," she said, her eyes on the ground. _Come on, Addie, think of some bullshit. _"I s-swear to serve Neverwinter f-faithfully and well."

"Then it is true," Nasher declared, smiling at her benevolently, "That means this squire will be tried here, ambassador, not within Luskan's walls."

"There is no justice in this," Torio said, narrowing her eyes, "But I was a fool to expect justice in Neverwinter." She turned and stalked out of the room. Everyone looked after her, Adahni found some perverse pleasure in seeing how she swung her hips as she walked. _And she wonders why her husband turned to whores to warm his bed. I bet she's as hot as an icicle in the sack._

"Seeing that gloating smile stripped from her face pleases me more than you will know," Nasher declared, smiling again, "But this has bought only a little more time, time we cannot afford to waste. We must find the truth of what happened at Ember, and quickly. But you cannot do so here. You have my leave to depart Neverwinter, provided you give your word to return for trial."

"Y-yessir," she said, her eyes still on the ground.

"Travel to Port Llast," Nasher commanded, "Someone there can guide you to Emeber - then return with whatever you can that will prove your innocence."

She bowed clumsily and turned to leave.

"Squire Farishta," Nasher said. She had not known before that he even knew her name, "You are to be congratulated on joining the service of Neverwinter and its knights. Serve Neverwinter, and it will serve you. Keep your resolve - I am confident you will expose the truth of this matter soon enough. And after this trial, I will have more duties for you."

"Thank you, sir," she said, bowing gratefully, and walking back out into the bright morning.

* * *

Bright morning or not, she was grateful to collapse into her bed at the inn and tug the covers over her head. She slept dreamlessly, no ghosts haunted her sleep. She awoke twice, once at sunset and once a few hours later, but had stayed in bed, thinking about what it was she would have to face once she tugged herself out from under the covers, and decided it would be better to go back to sleep. She was finally roused by Duncan, who had tiptoed into the room to light a fire in the hearth. She struggled out of the sheets, which had wound themselves tightly around her, and asked him what time it was.

"It's drinking time," he said, using the generic term for the time between sunset and midnight, "You feel up to playing a set? The barrooms packed. Half of them missed your playing and the other half just want to get a glimpse of the Butcher of Ember."

"The _what?_" Adahni exclaimed.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, lass, but that's what they've been calling you. It's not exactly flattering, I know, but business is good..."

"I'm glad you have my best interests at heart, uncle. When they hang me, will you auction off my things as a mass murderer's last possessions?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Addie," Duncan said, rising and wiping his hands on his apron, "They're not going to hang you."

"Good, because if they do, I am going to haunt this inn and nobody will ever drink here again," she declared, only half joking.

"Actually," Duncan said, "Ghosts are good for business - "

She chucked one of her boots at him. He ducked at it hit the wall. She got up and looked out of the window. There was no snow, of course, but the wind was howling something awful and she was not looking forward to going out back to bathe. The discomfort of her body, which was still caked with blood and sweat, won out in the end, and she went gingerly out to the barrel which Duncan called a tub, drew the curtain around it, and started working the pump. The water wasn't frozen, but not by much, and it raised goosebumps as she soaked a rag in it and scrubbed all the nastiness from her skin. Though it had healed well, the wound in her belly had left her with a scar, not unlike the one between her breasts, right below her navel. It curved up, giving her torso the look of a smiling face. She giggled to herself, tipped over the barrel to let the wastewater run into the sewers. She wrapped a towell around herself and hurried back inside before her hair froze.

Her holiday dress was still crumpled in the corner of her pack. She took it out and spread it on her bed, tugging the wrinkles out of it. She put on her underclothes and slid the dress over her head. _Why not? It's not as though I'm going to see another Midwinter. _This time, though, instead of pinning up her hair and securing it under a scarf, she just brushed it out and let it hang loose. She peered at her reflection. I don't look like a monster, she thought, smiled at herself, and went out into the barroom.

And immediate silence swept across the usually boisterous room. She felt, suddenly, like she was back in Barnslow, the eyes of the entire village upon her. Only her companions kept their eyes on the floor. Even Casavir did not look up at her, but gazed into the book he was reading.

"Play us a tune, Farishta," Bishop piped up. She looked at him gratefully. He picked up her mandolin and handed it to her with a small smile. As he gave it to her, he went in close to her ear and whispered, "Play a war song."

"What?" asked Adahni, looking at him oddly.

"Anti-Luskan songs," he said, "Remind them of who their real enemy is."

She nodded slowly, "If this works, I owe you a drink."

She seated herself in her familiar stool. Grobnar had been lazily picking away at his squeezebox, but when she approached, he scurried off into the corner.

She tuned the mandolin, taking her time with it. She, of course, had been in Luskan for the war, but she had picked up a few tunes in her year or so back on the Neverwinter side of the border. Besides, any derogatory song could really be shifted to be about anyone she chose.

She struck up a tune, one that most of them knew. She saw a few smirks and knowing smiles among the sailors.

_"The Luskan Army's the place to be, for the men are all like brothers,_

_But don't worry, Neverwinter girls, for they'd rather screw each other!"_

There was a bit of nervous giggling. She grinned winningly at the patrons and sang the chorus, a bit of gibberish that was easy for people to imitate. "With sword and spell aglow, to Luskan we will go!"

_"My love's a Luskan laddie, and to me he did say,_

_You know I love you dearly, but your sheep's a better lay!"_

She added on a few more verses, each more vulgar than the last one. Shandra joined in, and Bishop, and even Casavir had a smile on his face by the time she laid down her instruments, having accused the Luskans of everything from sodomy to bestiality to incest. She saw the opening, however fleeting, to say something seriously in her own defense. She summoned up all the bard's bravado she had collected over the years, and stood up.

"How many of you remember the burning of Barnslow?" she asked.

Forty or fifty hands flew in the air.

"I do too, I was there," she said, "I saw Luskan assassins slaughter every man, woman, and child in sight. It was only for fortune that I was able to remain hidden. What about Lanton? Redcliff? All of them burned to the ground, and this was after the war."

"I'm from Redcliff!" a grizzled old-timer shouted from the back of the room.

"Do you really think that a loyal Neverwinter citizen would stoop to that level?" she asked, "A decorated member of the Watch, no less? Luskan has been haunting our borders ever since the war ended, trying to provoke an outright attack, to restart the misery it caused in the first place. They don't care for the lives of anybody. They started a war with us that cost them the lives of thousands of their own young men and women, without any regard for the suffering of even their own citizens! Do you really think that a nation that places so little value on the lives of civilians would be past slaughtering their own for political gain?"

"So why'd they blame you? Why are you so important?" called one heckler, "Why wouldn't they blame Nevalle or Darmon or someone that actually matters?"

"I have run into their agents more often than they like in the everyday course of business. Nevalle has not had the same opportunity, given that he fulfills the bulk of his duty in front of his own looking glass," Adahni replied. The well-groomed Nevalle was such an easy target, she felt a little guilty. The heckler laughed.

She struck up a tune this time, this one not a funny, vulgar condemnation of Luskans' perverse sexual proclivities, but a lament for the dead in the war. _"A curse upon you, Luskan town, a curse forevermore, For the youths of Neverwinter who died upon the sword,"_ she sang. This time a few of the sailors, veterans of the war by the looks of them, sang along with her. She pushed all of the magic she could summon into the song, each verse a separate mourning poem for a man or woman who had fallen.

She wove her spell deftly, conjuring up the faces of the dead, the horrific wounds suffered by those who had survived. She had pushed so much into it that she found herself falling under the web herself, tears springing to her eyes as she looked across the crowd. A few of the men and women were missing legs or hands, one had lost an eye. The old and middle-aged had lost children and grandchildren, the young had lost spouses and siblings, their children made orphans It had been an awful thing, a horrid thing. And now here she was, provoking them to tears and rage, emotions that could well start a groundswell of support for yet another pointless war, all so she could save her neck from the hangman's noose.

Oh well, she thought, finishing her song and wiping her eyes. She got down off of her stool and went to get a drink. She felt, suddenly, very old and very tired, and leaned on the bar.

"Lass," a man's voice said, trying to get her attention. She turned. It was the old man who had declared that he was from Redcliff.

"Yes?" she said.

To her astonishment he walked up and threw his arms around her in a bear hug that smelled of tobacco. She hugged him back, a little nervously. He let her go after a few minutes.

"I know you didn't do it," he said, "You're the first person to even mention my hometown in years."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," she said.

"They killed my granddaughter before my eyes, while she wept and begged for her life. And funny thing was?" he said, his blue eyes blazing, "Funny thing was that she was Luskan, born and bred on the other side of the border on a visit to visit her dear old grandma - they killed her too - and me. It's right what you said about them not caring even about their own citizens. You've got my voice behind you at your trial, and my mates over there..." he gestured to a table full of old salts, one of whom raised a glass to her, "And ain't many people on the docks that dares to defy me in public. You go about proving yourself innocent, lass, cause I've got a feeling in my bones that you've got a much bigger part to play in this tragic comedy."

Sal rapped on the bar. She turned to pick up her tankard. When she turned back to thank the old man, he had gone back to his friends. She smiled at him and raised her mug to him. He did the same.

"See what happens when you take my advice?" Bishop said, appearing beside her.

"Thanks," she said, "Now if only Khelgar and Neeshka were as easy to win over as the dock-dwellers."

"They're not very bright, either of them," Bishop pointed out. Adahni opened her mouth to tell him not to be mean, but realized that he did have a point.

"I'm going to take them with me to gather evidence," Adahni says, "I'm banking on it being pretty obvious pretty quickly that I was no involved. Why are you taking such an interest in clearing my name?"

"Because if you go down, so do I, and so does Duncan, and probably Elanee since she joined us on the way out. My neck is as valuable to me as yours is to you."

Adahni nodded, "Well, thanks anyway."

"Think nothing of it," he replied, "Now, I've got some spare gold, and there's a whore over there that appears to be under the age of forty. So, if you'll excuse me..."

Adahni chuckled to herself, but inside was still nervous. If Khelgar and Neeshka, her oldest companions, still thought her capable of such a crime, she had to wonder - was she?


	40. The Truth Will Out

The next morning, she arose and groped for her blade. It was only after a few minutes of searching that she remembered what had become of it. She sighed. _How much gold is a new one going to cost me? _she thought. She went into her pack to look for her purse to see how much she even had. Grasping blindly, she promptly cut her finger on something sharp, and drew her hand out with a yelp. Horrified, she saw that her finger was cut to the bone, even with so little pressure. She sang a lullabye to herself, and the wound closed. She looked into her pack. Lying across the rest of her equipment was a gleaming rapier wrapped in silk. The point had come uncovered and was dripping with her blood.

She examined it, hefted it in her hand. _Alacrity _wasthe name was carved on the silver pommel. It was much finer than her last blade, glowing blue in the early morning light. She slid it into her scabbard, and then drew it with a flash and began to practice. She lept back and forth, fencing with her shadow on the wall. _I wonder who left this here, _she thought. Duncan, probably, or maybe Shandra, who had seen what had happened to the last blade. She smiled to herself. It was nice to know that some people did not doubt her.

This feeling warmed her as she went about the difficult task of rousing Neeshka and Khelgar from their bunks without waking the other inhabitants of their rooms. Quietly, they went out into the barroom where Sand and Shandra were eating their breakfasts.

"What do you want?" Neeshka asked, sitting down in front of a plate of eggs and bread.

"We're going to Port Llast," Adahni replied, "I know you're not convinced of my innocence yet, but I would hope that accompanying me to find evidence thereof will improve your opinion of me."

"It was a rousing speech you gave last night," Khelgar said, "I didn't know you were in Barnslow when it burned."

"I was," she replied.

"See, the thing is," Khelgar said, "You don't tell us anything about your past. Like Barnslow, for example, if I had known you were there it might have done a little to convince me that you aren't to blame for this. We've been travelling with you for three or four months now, and you've yet to be out with it."

"There's a tale in there, to be sure," Adahni said.

"You tell different ones to everyone you meet," Neeshka said, crossing her arms, "How are we supposed to know you're telling us the truth?"

"I have no reason to lie to you," Adahni said, "But surely this can wait until we're on the road."

"We'll come with," Khelgar said, "Believe me, if I had any choice in the matter I would be behind you all the way. But I can't shake the doubt from the back of my mind."

"You just need some convincing," Adahni said, "Come on, we can get passage on a boat. Shouldn't take but half the day."

The boat was a small one, carrying a cargo of grain from Neverwinter to Port Llast. From what Adahni had gathered, the small port city was closely allied with Neverwinter, but not closely enough to be counted as a part of their territory. This and that many of the residents had Luskan sympathies. After Shandra and Khelgar had gotten over their seasickness, Adahni was able to take Neeshka and the dwarf aside.

"So what is it you want to know?"

"Everything," Neeshka said.

"Well, I was brought up in Westharbor, as you know, by a friend of my mother's. Duncan's brother, Daeghun," Adahni said, getting squarely into 'bard mode.' If she pretended the tale she was telling was fiction, it didn't hurt so much to recount, "He really wasn't bad as fathers go, he just was a little... hands off. When I was fifteen, I fell in love with a boy a few years my senior. This was a year or so before the war had started. His dream was to become an assassin, and wanted to join up with the Circle of Blades in Luskan. I, being young and stupid, followed him. I took work as an ale wench and barroom singer. There was a girl at the bar where I worked, she worked there too only she sold her body instead of liquor. She took me under her wing, was kind to me. I... I loved her dearly. She was my sister and my mother and my friend, and I'd never had either of the first two before.

"I got pregnant a few years inn, must have been careless that month. We got married, like good little sinners... and then Dayven - my husband - got into trouble."

"Did they give him Cyric's Madness?" Neeshka asked.

"How did you know?"

"I've heard things about the Circle of Blades," Neeshka said, "I was offered a job once for them. Didn't take it. They scared the hells out of me to be honest."

"Well he did," Adahni said, "And he spent a lot of money on it. Eventually his debts were so high that his creditors came after me. But that wasn't the hell of it - the hell of it is what it did to him. He'd always run a little hot and cold, but the extremes got worse. Instead of screaming in my face, he'd slap me or punch me if he was good and mad. I'd already lost him."

"What about the baby?" asked Khelgar.

"Lost that too," she said. She'd always consciously avoided giving any thought to her miscarriage, or the violent hemorrhage it had started that had left her barren and an inch from death's door.

"When I said that his creditors came after me, I _mean _they came after me. Beat me within an inch of my life and left me at his doorstep. After that, they confronted me. See, there's no law in Luskan like there is here, to protect debtors. As a debtor's wife, I was fair game, and they could do with me what they liked until it was paid off. I was forced to... erm... shift my profession to a slightly older one," she avoided her companions' gaze. Sympathy or disgust, she didn't need either of it. "And then the girl who'd taken me in, Kyla was her name, she was killed by one of her customers, the husband of an important Luskan official. The ambassador, in fact, the woman who now accuses me of slaughtering a village. He liked to play rough with his whores and went overboard one night."

Khelgar was shaking his head.

"So I decided I would kill him," she said, "He'd snapped her neck like she was an animal for slaughter. She wasn't like me, she had family - she left behind a little brother that she had been raising, and I..." She paused, fighting down the lump in her throat. The guilt, like some of the memories, she had successfully buried under for years now, and dredging it up was rooting in your skin for a splinter that had been festering for weeks.

"What?"

"I didn't take him in like I should have, my mind was too bent on revenge," she said, "I should have taken him and gotten us both out of there, away from my husband... but instead, instead I let him take an apprenticeship with the Circle of Blades."

"What about the murderer?" asked Khelgar. His beady eyes were wide.

"I killed him," Adahni said, "I got him up to one of the rooms above the inn and I put a dagger between his eyes. He paid me first, you know, for services I was supposed to perform. I think it's the only time anyone who has paid for their own hit."

"Sounds like he deserved it," Neeshka snorted, "So why don't you tell people?"

"Well, first, because I don't like people knowing I was a whore," she said.

"It's an old and honorable profession," Neeshka said, "Believe me, back when times were harder, during the war? I turned a couple of tricks to keep a roof over my head. People have done worse things."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Neeshka said, "I didn't make a habit of it or anything, but sometimes, when the rent's due..."

"I'm sorry," she said, putting her hand on the tiefling's shoulder. The girl shuddered under her touch.

"Whatever. I never had a guy beat me up for kicks, though," she said.

"There's also the matter of me having murdered the husband of a high-ranking Luskan noble," Adahni said.

"Luskan scum," Khelgar said, "Completely inconsequential."

"And the fact that I let that poor little boy into the jaws of the Circle of Blades," Adahni said, "And it's turned him into a monster."

"How do you know?" asked Neeshka.

It occured to her, very suddenly, that perhaps Bishop would not like her telling stories on him, especially ones that could get him hanged, "Well, he's an assassin, isn't he? It turned my Dayven into a monster, I can only imagine what it would do to a little boy."

"I guess," Neeshka said, but her voice contained some doubt, "I still get the feeling you're not telling us something."

Adahni shrugged, "That's my great secret, take it or leave it."

"Well, I have to admit, lass, my image of you as some spoiled little daddy's girl has been shifted," Khelgar said, "Come, let's go make sure that neck of yours doesn't wind up snapped in half at the end of a rope."

* * *

The ride to Port Llast was even shorter than the one between Neverwinter and Highcliff. They disembarked and walked down the jetty into a bustling marketplace that rivaled Neverwinter's own docks. Sand sniffed the air, and gagged. "Ah, and here we are in the illustrious Port Llast. Watch where you step, you might get some of the local culture on your boots."

"Gods, Sand," Shandra snorted, "You hold your nose so high, it's a wonder you don't wear your hat on it."

"I don't even know what that means, my dear, but I'm sure as far as your local expressions go, it's quite quaint, and charmingly ignorant."

Adahni looked around at the ragged merchant's stalls, the buildings so warped that they looked as though they had risen out of the cobblestoned streets. Then she felt her feet grow cold and realized that she was standing in a large puddle of dubious origins. "Ugh," she said, jumping out and onto dry land, "The sooner we're out of this stinkhole, the better. What now?"

"We should find Haeromos as quickly as we can - he can grant us access to Ember and hopefully we can find some clus there," said Sand.

"Asking some of the locals couldn't hurt, either," Shandra added, "After we speak to Haeromos, of course."

"Agreed," Sand said, looking over the rabble in the streets, "As long as we use simple words, we may be able to get information out of them."

He led the way into a stone building that presumably housed the watch. Adahni followed, cowering under the hostile gazes of the locals. How they all knew who she was, she was not sure. Inside the office, she was met by a man in his mid-fifties, a scowl permanently etched on his lined face.

"I'm surprised you have the courage to show your face here," Haeromos sneered, by way of greeting, "A lot of people here had friends in Ember. If they find out who you are..."

"I'm not responsible for what happened," Adahni said, keeping her voice cool and aloof, "I'm here to clear my name."

"You're free to conduct your business here, but you'll be watched," he said, "If you have questions, ask them now. I'm a busy man."

"Would you say," Adahni said, glancing at Sand, "Luskan is a threat to you?"

"Of course. The Luskans would lay claim to our harbor for their war ships. Having secured such a prominent location, they could mount a swift attack on Neverwinter, or Waterdeep for that matter. They talk of a peaceful coexistance, but I know their words to be false. Luskan's... difficulties with Ruathym may have come at a fortunate time. As long as Luskan is at war with their island neighbor, they cannot turn their attention elsewhere."

"Hm," Adahni said, "I know the town of Lanton... or what's left of it, is not far from here. On the Neverwinter side of the border, so surely you have experience with the sort of horrors that occured in Ember. But I'm curious, what exactly is it that happened there?"

"Innocents slaughtered, the village burned to the ground - all done by you. My only regret is that Ember falls under Luskan jurisdiction, not mine."

"It seems to me," Adahni responded, "That if you were so certain it was me, you wouldn't be speaking to me right now. Such crimes hardly merit the privilege of a trial."

"I am sure it was you. It was witnessed, after all. You were described in great detail," Haeromos responded.

"Really," Adahni said, "Then, I would like to speak to this person."

"Out of the question!" Haeromos exclaimed, "She's been through enough, and besides, you won't like what she has to say."

"All right," Adahni said, "I'm sure Lord Nasher will be thrilled when he hears how uncooperatoive you've been."

"This is _my _town," Haeromos said, "If Lord Nasher wants to take issue with my behavior, he can take it up with me himself."

Adahni glared at him, but did not dignify it with a response, and turned tail and stalked out of the building. "It's not fair," she said, "I should be able to speak with all witnesses. Hell, I witnessed just as much as she did, and I'm all right!"

"Different people react in different ways," Khelgar said, putting a hand on her arm, "She didn't just see a village burn, she saw _her _village. She just lost everything."

Adahni nodded.

"Excuse me," a curious dwarf asked. He was standing outside the building tending a forge. His wares, a couple of fine swords and maces, glowing with enchantments, were laid out on a table in front of him, "Are you talking about Ember?"

"Yes," she said, "What have you heard about it?"

"Me?" he said, "No I 'haven't heard much... though that idiot Elgun claims to have been there. Name's Haljal, by the way, Haljal Throndor. I'm a blacksmith."

"I gathered," Adahni said, though not unkindly, "So who's Elgun?"

"Port Llast's resident braggart, he is. Always boastin' of deeds done and dragons slain. Mind you, no one had ever actually seen him do any of it," Haljal said, scratching his chin through his thick beard, "And he spends most of his time too drunk to imagine him swinging at anything besides a man who insulted his mother's honor."

Adahni chuckled.

"Hard to believe what they say, though," Haljal continued, "That a Neverwinter lass did this. I mean I don't like to judge people on the lands they come from, but burning villages always seemed like a Luskan tactic to me."

"That's what I said," Adahni said.

"I mean I passed through there the other day and nearly lost my lunch. Hadn't seen a scene like that since Lanton," he clicked his teeth, "But either way, if you're looking for a yarn to be spun, you might want to speak with Elgun. You'll find him in the inn, awake or passed out is really anyone's guess."

Adahni followed Haljal's pointed finger to a building up the road and around the corner. She thanked him and walked towards it, her comrades at her heels. She withered, though, under the glares of the townsfolk, who seemed to have realized who she was even if Haljal had not. None, however, pulled out swords to visit justice upon her, and so she passed them by without a challenge. Khelgar, though, she could almost see the steam coming out of his ears as they passed under gaze after hostile gaze.

Outside the inn were a gaggle of what appeared to be watchmen, all stumblingly drunk and presumably off duty. Their leader, a burly woman with elfin features and arms like a blacksmith, pointed one stubby finger at Addie and gave an animalistic growl, "You there… stop where you are."

"Is there a problem?" she asked in her snidest tone, looking down her nose at the guard as she might at a dog turd on the ground.

"_You _massacred the people of Ember, and you have the nerve to show your face in Port Llast!" the guardswoman snarled.

"As I've been saying, I didn't do it. Nothing's been proven," she said calmly. Nothing infuriated an angry drunk than the object of their ire behaving like a civilized human being.

"Well we know you were at Ember during the massacre," she said, "That's enough."

"That's like saying if a mouse was in the room when you were conceived, then the mouse is your father," Adahni replied, "And how in the hells would you know where I was?"

"Doesn't matter," the guardswoman said, "What matters is what's going to happen to you now."

"I see," Sand sniffed, "So you're convinced that this woman slaughtered a village of thirty… and you think that you four are going to stand a chance against her. Your logic is impeccable."

"We're _guards,_" the woman sneered, "We'll be arresting you now. For… disturbing the peace. You're going to become violent, and then we'll be forced to kill you."

"You're defeating yourself here," Adahni said, "If you truly believed me capable of slaughtering dozens, there's no way you would dare touch me. So either you're going to leave me alone because I'm genuinely dangerous, or you're going to admit that you don't really think that I did it. Besides, what makes you think that I'd turn violent?"

The guardswoman looked down at her and scratched her head, completely perplexed, "Well… nevermind about that. We're avenging Ember here and now!"

Before Adahni could say another word, four swords flashed in the air and she was forced to drop to the ground to duck the blows, any of which would have taken off an ear, if not cracked her skull. She drew her own blade. She would have liked to say that she regretted beating them bloody and leaving them in the gutter, but despite what Shandra had said, she really did not feel any remorse. The stupid deserved everything they got and more, as far as she was concerned.


	41. Wintering in Port Llast

They spent the night at the inn after speaking with most of the townsfolk who would lend them a few minutes of their time. Sand's quill scratched over page after page of the logbook he was keeping. Khelgar was somber, not drinking like he usually did. Neeshka was similarly glum, withering under the glares of the townspeople that filtered in and out. They had spoken with Elgun, a rotund fellow with a beard that looked to house not a few mice. He, anyway, was clearly full of it, but there was that other witness to contend with.

"I can't believe that jerk didn't let me speak with her," Adahni said, "So what do we do now?"

"I think we ought to head to the scene of the crime," Khelgar said, "Like the woman with the wyrmsage said."

"What about Duskwood?" Shandra put in, "The ranger – Malin – said that there have been strange goings-on there. And it's only a stone's throw from Ember."

"I hate to say it," Neeshka said, "But if you're going to Duskwood, Bishop and Elanee are going to me of much more use than Khelgar or I. And if you're going to Ember, it's Casavir who makes a habit of praying over ruined villages."

"Are you trying to get out of this?" Adahni asked. She had begun to be able to tell when the tiefling was being insincere.

"Aw, it's such a pain in the butt!" the tiefling whined, "I'm used to being stared at and reviled and all that, but this is just too much!"

"Do you still think I did it?" Adahni asked.

"I don't think you did it, I'm just not entirely convinced that you _didn't._" she said.

"Fine," Adahni said, "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to go back to the inn, get the paladin, scatter the wyrmsage over the corpses in Ember like we're supposed to. Send him back to the inn, get the ranger and the druid – you've seen what happens with Bishop and Cas are in each other's vicinity for too long. We're also going to need to get the gnome out here to talk to that strange couple out by the docks."

"Well, you have a better grasp of this than I do," Sand said, "I am going to trust your judgment on this one… for now."

"We'll get a boat back in the morning," Adahni said, "But it's getting expensive. We're going to have to start making the runs by land."

"Trial's not scheduled until the equinox anyway," Sand said, "I've got all the dates marked off here. We've got three months to build our case – more than enough time. " He spread a map in front of them. "Look… there's Ember, it will take us three days by land to go from Neverwinter. It would be half a day's journey from here."

"All right," Adahni said, "As much as I love wasting time, here's what we're going to do… innkeeper!"

The innkeeper sauntered over, wiping his hands on his apron, "What can I do for you?"

"Do you have bunkrooms here?" she asked.

"Yes, two of them. Five bunks each. We also have ten double rooms."

"How much does a bed go for per night?"

"Five gold," he replied, "Reasonable in these parts."

"What if I could guarantee you that both bunk rooms will be full for ten days at least?" she asked.

"I'd let the whole room go for fifteen, ten if you can keep it full and keep yourselves out of trouble," he said.

"All right," she said. She rooted through her pack to find her coin purse and handed him fifty gold, "There's a down payment, we'll pay off the rest once the others arrive."

She paid a kitchen boy a copper to fetch her a scroll. Taking Sand's quill she wrote a message.

_To Duncan Farlong of the Sunken Flagon:_

_We are setting up a base of operations here in Port Llast at the local rat-infested whorehouse that calls itself an inn. Tell Elanee, Bishop, Casavir, and Grobnar to catch the next ship here as we will need their assistance. Don't send Qara. In fact, put her on a double shift. This place is expensive._

_Addie._

She handed the boy another copper to take it to the docks and post it. Glad for the extra cash, he capered off into the night to do so. The five of them mounted the stairs. The bunkrooms were in better condition than Duncan's. There were two bunks and a mattress on the floor. Adahni took the mattress, dumping her pack in the foot locker at the foot of the bed and closing it. She wriggled out of her chainmail and flopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"If I'd known we'd be staying, I'd have brought my mandolin," she sighed. She looked down at her hands. They were jumping around involuntarily, looking for something to do, two brown birds looking to fly.

"What about that project you were working on?" Shandra suggested, "In Solace Glade."

"There was blood all over it," Adahni said, "Unreadable. I threw it in the fire."

"That's too bad," Shandra said, "I would have liked to read it."

"It was just love songs," Adahni said, "I'd never seen any of them written down. The best songs are thought up by the illiterate."

"Here," Shandra said, rummaging in her bag and handing Adahni a leatherbound volume, "I found this in Nya's magic shop down the road. It's blank."

Adahni opened the book. The pages were smooth and creamy, of high-quality paper and smelled of dust. "It's beautiful," she said.

"She gave me ink with it for free," Shandra said, handing her a small, stoppered bottle, "Do you remember the ones you were going to write down? All of them?"

"Of course," she replied. She ran her hands over the pages of the book, admiring their smoothness, "You'll be the first one to read them."

There was a rickety desk in the corner. She pulled up a three-legged stool and set the book on the surface, pouring ink into the little groove at the top that was intended for that purpose. There was a quill pen there, which she dipped in the ink and began to write. Unlike the expended scroll she had used the first time, the pages of the blank book were thick, designed to take the ink. She had always prided herself on her penmanship, her letters slanting precisely in a deliberate, practiced hand. She hummed the melodies to herself as she wrote, the letters looping and twirling. The ink, like the paper, was of excellent quality. She thought of Nya, the owner of the magic shop that had sold them. Poor girl had lost her love, just as they all had.

She rolled herself a smoke and lit with a small blast of flame. She stuck the end in her mouth and inhaled deeply. It was the last of Bishop's stash that she had taken liberties with. She blew a smoke ring, finishing the first song. She smoked greedily, starting the next one. The tobacco gave her energy, her hands moving more quickly, if a little more nervously.

She woke up with her head on the desk when the moon was high. Neeshka and Shandra were snoring on their respective bunks. Adahni raised her head and wiped the drool from her mouth, prying her arms from the desk. Her hair, she saw, and trailed into the inkwell. She sighed in frustration, but, seeing as the ink was pretty much the same color as her hair, wasn't too worried about it. She tied her hair up and put a kerchief over it, and went to bed, leaving her work open on the desk.

* * *

She was awakened again by a hand shaking her gently by the shoulder. "My lady," the paladin's voice crooned, "It's nearly noon."

"Go away," she mumbled and rolled over.

He shook her again.

"Fine," she sighed, and sat up. She rolled off the mattress, yawning and stretching. She went over to the desk and looked at her book. She was more than halfway through the book, and almost at the end of her repertoire. She was going to have to write more than she thought. Her brain was fuzzy, though, she would have to clear her head if she was going to…

"My lady," the paladin said. She turned and looked at him.

"I'm almost done," she said, squinted at him.

"Your defense," he said, "The trial?"

She uttered a very rude word, remembering what on earth she was doing at a crappy inn in a crappy town, and it wasn't to complete some nonsensical project. "When did you arrive? Where are the others?"

"We got in early this morning. The others are in the town, they've promised to come back in an hour… except the ranger, he doesn't promise anyone anything."

"So what are you doing here?" she asked. She frowned down at her corset and tightened the laces. She jumped up and down to see if it worked, which it had. She threw on a clean undershirt and then her chainmail, and shimmied into her breeches.

"Should I go?" he asked, consciously looking away.

"Nah, " she said, "I'm almost ready. So I suppose we should probably go to Ember first, before the bodies start to rot. It's been cold enough that we don't have to worry about it too much. Conversely… it's not as though we can bury them properly."

"You've lost me," he said.

"We need to go to Ember and scatter wyrmsage on the bodies. Not surprisingly, Luskan hasn't bothered to do anything about the bodies. I suppose we ought to build them a pyre…."

"Burn the bodies?" he asked, his face twisted in consternation.

"We always burned the dead in winter," Adahni said, knitting her brows, "The ground freezes everywhere but Neverwinter, and not all of us have family tombs to be placed in. I mean, it all winds up as dust anyway. I've always thought that I would like to be cremated. Beats being eaten by maggots and having the rest of you go all green and mushy."

"It always seemed so… barbaric," he replied, his face going a little green at the thought, "But I suppose building a cairn over them would be difficult."

Adahni shrugged, "I think I'd rather burn alive than have my bones buried in Luskan soil."

"What was that you were looking at?" Casavir asked.

"Silly project," she said, "Something to keep my hands busy." She buckled on her sword belt, thrusting her blade into it.

"How is the blade serving you?" he asked.

She turned and looked up at him, "That was you?"

"It was Shandra's idea," he said, "She told me what became of yours, and we thought that considering all you're going through, finding a new blade was not something you needed to be worrying about."

She grinned and hugged him around the neck by way of thanks. She would get Shandra back later, she supposed, a small token of gratitude. "I'll make it count," she said, "Come on, let's hit the road." She strapped her pack to her back and headed down the stairs to the barroom, in surprisingly high spirits. Grobnar was the only one of her companions still present, sitting crosslegged on a table, chewing on a large rasher of bacon that was enormous in his tiny hands. He jumped to his feet when he saw her, rattling everyone's plates on the table. He waved to her with one greasy paw.

"My lady!" he exclaimed, "I'm so excited! I thought you'd _never _bring me along on an adventure. I suppose I don't blame you, I know you probably think having _two _bards would be entirely superfluous, but I'll show you what I'm made of, though, I assure you!"

"I'm sure you will, Gnomehands," she said, raising her eyebrows at him, "Did you get a load of the gnomish couple out in the tent?"

"Why no I didn't," the diminutive bard declared, "It will be nice to see someone of my stature. It gets tiring, looking at knees all day."

Adahni really felt that there was a rude joke to be made in there somewhere, but held her tongue for the benefit of the paladin. She seated herself in front of the gnome and was joined by Casavir. She had bought a a map off a merchant on the docks, which she spread out in front of her. "Ember is half a day's journey from here, but it will probably take longer because of the snow. I don't know about you, but I think it's probably best to examine things in broad daylight."

Grobnar nodded his agreement enthusiastically.

"It's a pain in the neck, I know, but we'll have to set off tonight at midnight, which should get us there just as the sun is rising, giving us the whole day to inspect it. Days being so short and all, I think it would be best if we got there just as the light was getting good. Sand is insisting on keeping the notes all by himself and Shandra… well Shandra's been the one among all of you that's stuck by me through this, besides you of course Cas, and frankly she needs the experience. Although she's gotten better…"

"She was an enthusiastic pupil," Casavir said.

"I'm sure she was," Adahni said, not realizing until the words were out of her mouth that they did sound rather snarky. She cleared her throat, "So, anyway, meanwhile, I'd say go, explore the town, and I will be up in our room, not causing trouble."

"Probably a good idea," the paladin said, "Come on, Master Gnomehands, let's see what Port Llast has to offer."

"Why, of course, sir!" Grobnar said, elated with all the attention he was getting, "Right away, sir!"

Adahni shook her head as they left the inn, Casavir walking all stately and the gnome trotting along at his heels. She grabbed an apple from a bowl on the bar and, crunching happily, went back upstairs to her work.


	42. The Forgotten

The gnomish couple, as Adahni had half anticipated, were of absolutely no use, spewing gibberish so thick that even Grobnar could not decipher it. Just before drinking time, she had a word with the innkeeper and talked him down to ten gold a night for both rooms in exchange for Grobnar's services, so that bringing him there would not be entirely useless. The gnome pouted at first, but she assured him that she would bring him with her to Duskwood, so he ought to get his rest. He cut a caper of delight at this, having always desired to see the mysterious, magical, Duskwood. He also conceded that he did tend to get a little queasy around putrifying corpses and wouldn't want to slow them down, would he.

She took a brief nap and awoke in plenty of time for midnight. She went downstairs to find Shandra, Sand, and Casavir assembled, presumably waiting for her. To her dismay, the ranger was with them.

"What?" he said, "You think I'd let you parade alone through a village alone where, last time, we were ambushed?"

"You're so gracious," she said

"Plus," he murmured, drawing close to her, "You have to admit it's amusing how much I irk the paladin."

"You're a prick," she replied, but made no objection as he followed them out into the night.

The night was dark and colder than she would have imagined it being. She wrapped her cloak tightly around her and pushed herself forward into the icy wind. No matter which way they turned, it seemed to be in their faces, freezing icy tracks in the ranger's whiskers and lacing Adahni's eyelashes with frost. Nobody complained, but she knew it was only because nobody wanted to look like a wimp in front of the others. The air smelled like snow, and she hoped that her whole brilliant idea of pushing them all night so as to get there under the brilliant daylight would not be rendered moot by a storm.

She was not disappointed. The sky cleared shortly before daybreak, illuminating the outline of what had been Ember a mile or two in the distance. Sand looked over into the village. A look of approval crossed his face, which was swiftly replaced by somber horror as they drew closer.

"It..." Shandra started to say, looking over the scene.

"It's efficient," Bishop commented, "Whoever did this, they took care to secure the perimeter first, then moved in... Look, you can tell from the position of the corpses." He walked around. The corpses were seemingly scattered, but Adahni imagined he saw some pattern she didn't. Their faces were frozen in silent screams, their blood frozen and crimson on the white of the snow. "Wouldn't put it past Luskans," the ranger contnued, "They usually don't bother trying to place blame elsewhere, so they may have made mistakes."

"I was just traveling through here last season..." Shandra said, "There... there was the quartermaster's house...and Alaine's home.. By the gods, who would have done this? These villagers, none of them were soldiers... it would have been a massacre."

"My dear," Sand said, though not in his usually condescending smirk, "It _was_ a massacre. Come, let's see what we can find."

They proceeded into the village. It was eerily similar to when Adahni had first laid eyes on it. Only the covered well remained standing, though it was surrounded by the dead.

"Hold on a moment," Sand said, holding a hand up and looking down into its depths, "I heard something moving in the well... could be a survivor... or one of the perpetrators."

Adahni personally felt that shinnying down a frozen rope into a well so deep she could not see the bottom was probably a bad idea, especially since that, for any of them, getting their clothes or boots wet would mean freezing to death, or at the very least losing a toe or two. Sand, however, was insistent, and so she, followed by the rest of them, climbed hand over hand into the well.

The water at the bottom was, thankfully, frozen and posed no peril. She squinted around, her eyes adjusting to the gloam. The well was not an artificial one a all, but an opening onto a much larger cave with an underground spring at the bottom. She could feel the water moving under the ice beneath her feet. Her eyes finally focued on a tiny, pale figure, huddled in a blanket on a rock ledge over the water. He had constructed a little shelter, up and away from the ice, and the remains of a fire showed how he had survived.

"I knew I'd see you again," the boy said, jumping down from the ledge, his voice the same high monotone, "You're finally here."

"So you were right," Adahni said, "What happened to the village?"

"Men came. When I saw them, I knew they were the ones who would kill everyone. There was no place for me to hide, except in the well. I watched them kill all the people. I.. didn't want to, but it felt important for me to see what happened, so I could tell you," the boy said, looking at her with his odd dark eyes.

"What men? What did they look like?" Adahni asked, "Gods almighty, you must be freezing." She knelt and lifted the little fellow into her arms. His hands and face were icy around her neck, "You can tell me the rest while we get back to civilization."

"But the investigation! The bodies!" Sand protested.

"This kid has been in the bottom of a well for Gods know how long, the bodies can wait a few more hours!" she replied.

"There were twelve of them, I think," the boy said, hooking his head over her shoulder to look at her companions as she made her slippery way back towards the edge of the well, "They had dark armor, and... one of them looked like you. I knew he wasn't though."

"That'd be difficult, for a him to look like me," Adahni said.

"Unless he were five foot tall with a couple of melons strapped to his chest," Bishop commented.

"Keep talking, ranger, and see how long your windpipe stays intact," Adahni shouted back. She reached the rope and grabbed ahold of it, "All right, kid," she said.

"Marcus," the kid said, "My name is Marcus."

"All right, Marcus, I'm going to put you down. You grab on to my neck and wrap your legs around my waist..."

"See that's what _I _said to _her_," the ranger quipped. By now, it was clear that he was trying to get a rise out of the paladin, not Adahni, and so she ignored that one. She put Marcus down and knelt, letting him clamber onto her back. She seized the rope and climbed up it, hand over hand, careful not to bang the kid against the rocky wall of the well. When all six of them had safely ascended, she put him down again.

"So how did you know it wasn't her?" asked Sand, "In fact, how did you know that she was a he in the first place?"

"When I focused on her, she started to look different. I saw a man who was big and mean, like an ogre, but bald."

"Well, Bishop," Adahni said, "Looks like we found your mother..."

"Hmm," Sand said, not letting Bishop have a chance to respond to the insult, "This testimony could prove useful. We should take him back to Neverwinter when we're done here."

"So you've really been down here this whole time?" Adahni asked, kneeling so she was at eyelvel with him.

"Yes. I knew you would be coming here, so I waited."

"All right," she said, "You'll be coming back to Port Llast with us."

"I can go by myself," he replied.

"No you can't," she said, "You're ten. If you want to leave now, I'll send you with the nice man with the mace, if you can wait, we'll build you a fire and you can warm yourself until we're done with our business."

The kid did not respond, but turned to Bishop, "Here's the knife you gave me. It helped me survive down here, but I won't need it anymore."

Wordlessly, the ranger took his knife. Adahni saw that it was glowing with some sort of magic that it had not had before. She examined it for a moment, and then gave it back to him.

"So, what'll it be?" asked Adahni, look at the boy, but the boy was gone.

"Where'd he go?" she asked.

Each of her companions was as baffled as she was.

"The kid made it all right by himself for a long time, there's no point in going all mother on him now," Bishop said.

"I'm nobody's mother," Adahni said, "He was cold, that's all."

"Sure," Bishop said, "All you women are the same. All tough talk and brashness, but let you see a puppy or a little kid that needs help and you go all syrupy and soft."

"He's a _child,_" Adahni sighed, rolling her eyes, "What do you think I should do, slap him on the back and buy him a beer?"

The ranger shrugged, "Find him an apprenticeship someplace, he'll be just fine."

Adahni wanted to glare at him, but could not meet his gaze, and instead, turned her attention to the corpses. There was no shortage of dried timber in the area. With the help of her companions, she built a passable pyre, large enough to fit the dozen or so corpses left in the village. Turning to the corpses themselves, she realized that she was not entirely but, improvising, scattered a little wyrmsage on each of them. Shandra and Casavir did most of the heavy lifting, moving them to the pyre, while Sand and Bishop followed her closely, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"Hold a moment," Sand said as Shandra and Casavir picked up the corpse of a young man man.

"What is it?" asked Adahni.

"This corpse is unusually discolored, much different from the usual decay," Sand said.

"It's been below freezing for a month now, of course they're going to decay differently," Adahni said, "But I suppose it's something."

"These wounds are superficial - not deep enough to kill. And the scent, coupled with the discoloration of the skin... this man died from poison, and an unusual one at that!" Sand declared, "You won't find it in any of the apothecaries or potion shops in Neverwinter. But it _is _a -"

"I know what it is," Adahni said. She had a sudden flashback. Corpses floated down the river in the Luskan docks all the time, and during the winter, not a few of them had resembled the young man Sand was examining, "A certain Luskan assassin's guild uses it."

"I don't even know how you can tell that," Shanda remarked.

"Trust me," Sand sighed, "I've seen a lot of death over the centuries." He bent down and, producing a little dagger from his belt, cut a chunk of flesh from the wound on the young man's right shoulder blade. Adahni gagged a little, and was glad when he had stoppered the sample up in an empty flask, "There, I think it will serve as a valuable piece of evidence."

Adahni groaned as Shandra and Casavir lifted the body and took it to the pyre. They progressed through the village. There were footprints in the snow, and impressions where at least a hundred more corpses had lain, carted away on sleds by their families and friends for a proper burial. These unfortunates they were collecting now had been forgotten, abandoned, left there for the ravens and wolves. Although, Adahni had to admit, most of the bodies were in remarkable conditions. It seemed even the woodland creatures didn't want anything to do with them.

"Look here," Sand called after an hour or so of examining the village and its... residents. "Looks like the Quartermaster's log. Seems as though Luskan hasn't been sending shipments for a while now.... as though they knew that sending them would be pointless."

It took them most of the day to pile the corpses on the pyre. By the time they were finished, the sun had already gone down. Adahni had not thought to bring along oil for the task at hand, but Shandra had, and she doused the pyre and the bodies, all ten of them laid out side by side, and the wood beneath them. Adahni reared back and breathed a blast of flame over them, lighting the whole thing into a roaring blaze. The five of them stood there in silence. She saw Casavir's lips moving in prayer. Sand had his head bowed. Shandra was crying, tears silently dripping down her face. Adahni _was _sad, genuinely sad, for these poor people. Nobody they knew had bothered to give them a funeral and they had lain there for Gods knew how long, their eyes open in the cold, the only people there to grieve for them five strangers who were only in the village to clear two of their names.

_It's not fair, how people have to die for political gain... it's silly, it's useless, and Gods nobody even _bothered _to take them away, put them to rest properly... and it's just not _fair! She felt her anger bubbling to the surface in a shout or a scream of sorts... She let out a single, wailing note, and then another, and soon she was singing them a shrill, piercing lament like the barbarian women of the Uthgardt were said to do.

The fire burned long into the night, the bodies were reduced to skeletons. When the moon was high in the sky, and Adahni's throat was getting very sore, a strange thing happened. For years afterward, she did not know whether she had dreamed it or it was real, for she never spoke of it with any of her companions. As she stood there, wailing at the fire, she saw an apparition, the young man Sand had 'sampled' rise up, walk towards her. He was a wispy outline, but she could see that he was handsome, and young, and smiling at her. He stopped before her and bowed. Then he turned and walked off down the path that the moon cast on the fallen snow. Her eyes followed him until he had melted away into nothing. She turned her attention back to the fire. One of the women, one that Shandra had cried in shock over, for the poor thing had been five or six months pregnant, arose as though she had been sleeping. She carried a baby in her arms. She, too, walked up to Adahni, bowed, and then walked off into the night. The rest of the slain rose as well, one by one, smiling, and bowed to her, and left. When the final ghost disappeared into the night, she turned back to see that the corpses were nothing but ash, the pyre nothing but glowing planks. She shook her head, trying to piece together what she had seen.

"Come, my lady," the paladin said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "It's been a long day. It's time we returned to the town."

She looked into the distance, down the silvery path of moonlight, but the forgotten souls of Ember had long since departed.


	43. Forgiveness

It was dawn by the time they returned to the inn, exhausted, sore, and chilled to the bone. Their hearts, too, dragged on the ground. Even Bishop had a tired sorrow in his face instead of his customary scowl. Adahni, having been up for about thirty hours at this point, trudged up the stairs. Her book was nearly done, but all she could think about were laments and dirges. She stripped off her armor and tossed it in the corner. She wrapped herself in a wool blanket and crawled under the quilt on her mattress. Her head hit the pillow gratefully, and she drifted off to sleep to the tune of Elanee's peaceful snoring. She slept a deep, dark, dreamless sleep. She awoke several time during the course of the next day, but each time, looked up at the ceiling, saw the corpses' frozen faces, decided that sleep would probably better, and rolled over to bury her head in the pillow again.  
It was Neeshka who finally was able to wake her. "Addie," she shrilled, "I believe you."  
Adahni rolled over and sat up. The tiefling was standing over her. She extended her hand and Adahni took it, rising. Her mouth felt sour and dry, "What made you change your mind?"  
"You gave them a proper funeral, insisted upon it I hear," she said, "The ranger won't shut up about how much time you wasted making them stand there in the cold."

"How would you like to lie on your back for most of a month and nobody bother with your body?" she reasoned.

"But, Addie... I have to ask," Neeshka said, her eyes flitting about the room, "I know you didn't do it, and that you didn't let it happen, but... did the ranger ever slip away from you while you were in Westharbor, or on the way there?"

"He didn't do it either," Adahni said, "Not because he's not capable of it, because I am sure that he is, and I'm also sure that he'd do it if he had the proper motivation... but it's a good three or four day journey here from Neverwinter, in the opposite direction that it takes to get to Westharbor. He just wouldn't have had the time. Not to mention that he would have had to find a band of about twelve men to follow him in, along with someone who, from what people are saying, looked an awful lot like me."

Neeshka sat down on her bunk. Adahni went to the basin in the corner of the room and filled it from a pitcher. She scrubbed her face and did her best to clean out the inside of her mouth.

"You know," she heard Neeshka say, "There are any number of enchantments or potions that can change your appearance."

"I know that," she said, "But they wouldn't have lasted long enough for the slaughter of an entire village."

"So we're talking about really potent stuff here," Neeshka said.

"Yeah."

"I remember, once, I was doing a job with an old associate," Neeshka said, "This is back, during the war, and it was a really big haul because we invested a lot in it. This old rich lady who made a big show of throwing charity balls and all that had made a big show of inviting two war refugees to stay with her after their village had been attacked. It was supposed to be a ten-year-old girl and her little brother. I don't know where he got it, but my colleague produced a couple of potions."

"And...?"

"It worked," she said, "We drank it down, and we were suddenly two children, but with our own minds and skills - I tell you, if you ever miss your childhood, try being four feet tall for a day or two and see how you like it. We got there, she even fed us and tucked us into bed, and then we got up, filled a couple of sacks with her valuables, and ran out of the house. Nobody suspected a thing... until the two refugees showed up later that month. They arrested a few street kids, but couldn't prove anything."

"So we've established that such a potion exists," Adahni said, "But how do we prove it?"

"Well, I would hunt up my old colleague that found it, but they hung him years ago."

"So it's a dead end... literally."

"No it's not," Neeshka said, "I know he didn't get it in the city, and he said that it was made by nymph magic, that's why it was so expensive."

"All right, so there's the how. And now the where."

"Since I just provided you with such a valuable tip," Neeshka said. Adahni heard the sound of the other foot dropping echoing through her head, "I don't think I should have to go to Duskwood with you. You know, I bet you'd find plenty of nymphs there, you can ask them!"

"Fine," Adahni said, "You'd only bitch about the cold the whole way there anyway."  
"Look," Neeshka said, "My...erm... ancestors didn't exactly come from a cold climate. Plus I have no good way to cover my tail, and let me tell you it is prone to frostbite!"

"Fair enough," she said, "You're a free woman... just split whatever your take is."

"In this one-horse town?" Neeshka said, crossing her arms across her chest, "I'd be lucky to steal two coppers and a chamber pot. But you know me, I'll do my best."

"I'm sure you will," Adahni replied. Neeshka winked at her and strode out of the room, swinging her hips and twitching her tail back and forth rhythmically.

"Come down to the barroom, Grobnar doesn't sound too bad tonight. And there are a few handsome sailors at the bar."

"I'm sure there are," Adahni shook her head. No matter how much she learned about the tiefling, she still managed to be completely baffling. Still, if it was a potion, that meant it had to come from somewhere. If it was something that Sand could make, he would have thought of it. He was sharp like that, would have connected the dots if he knew the second dot was there. So it had to be something else. She went to the window, which overlooked the road which led down to the harbor. There were ships, eerie skeletal shadows of main and mizzenmasts in the moonlight. She turned and went back to her pack. She had a couple of cotton dresses in there she had bought from one of the seamstresses in Westharbor, when she was there. They were of cheap cloth, but their cut was flattering and they were dyed in lovely colors, one a deep crimson and the other a creamy blue. She selected the blue one and drew it over her head, wriggling until it fell properly across her shoulders. She left her hair down, and went downstairs to find her companions.

The barroom was full and buzzing. Grobnar was playing his little concertina, and a few sailors were clogging in time with it. She scanned the room for familiar faces and, to her surprise, found Nya, the vendor of magic wares who had sent her to scatter wyrmsage on the corpses, standing in the corner conversing with Casavir.

She approached her cautiously, but when Nya saw her she smiled and waved. "Well met again," she said.

"I did as you asked," Adahni said.

"Then the people of Ember will rest in peace," Nya said, nodding.

"We built a pyre as well," she said.

"You have a good heart," the vendor said, nodding.

"That's debatable," Adahni sighed.

Nya reached into her pocket and took something out. She cradled it in her hands for a moment, examining it. "I've kept this amulet all these years. It belonged to my love, but I think it will suit you well," she said, holding the necklace out. It dangled between them.

"That is a great gift," Casavir said, "With it, she gives you her heart... and hope."

"I shall treasure it then," she said, smiling at him.

"It is good to respect such a thing... it has much of herself invested in it."

"You're an idiot," Bishop's growl came out of the corner of the room, ten or so feet away, "An object is copper, silver, or gold, that's all there is."

"However you use it," Nya said, "I hope it helps you on your travels. I thank you for the ale, sir knight, and the company, but I must be on my way." She nodded at Casavir, and atAdahni, and hurried out of the inn.

"What was that about?" Adahni asked, looking warily at the paladin.

"I don't know," he replied.

"He asked her here for a beer," Bishop said, sauntering up to them, "Of course, as soon as she saw you walk up, she knew she didn't have a chance and left before you could embarass her."

"I'm sure she had important things to attend to," Casavir said.

"Sure she did," Bishop scoffed, "And she only went off to do them once she saw the two of you within ten feet of each other."

"Ignore that," Adahni commanded, and to her surprise, the paladin listened, "So, what would shut you up, Bishop, a drink?"

"There's a start," he said, "Come on, let's fight our way to the bar."

"One minute," she said. She examined the amulet Nya had given her. It was glowing with some kind of energy. She got the distinct feeling that she did not want to put it on, that it was not intended for her, "Cas?" she said.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Here," she said, "Take it."

"My lady, I couldn't possibly. You told her that you would treasure it."

"And how could I do so more than giving it to someone whom I value greatly?" she asked, smiling slightly, "You know its worth. Wear it well."

She dropped it into his hand, and turned around, following the ranger's back into the crowd at the bar. She didn't dare to turn around. She didn't know what he would make of the gift at all. If he wanted to speak with her about it, she would worry about it later. She caught up with the ranger about three people deep into the crowd around the bar. He was staring at something. She followed his gaze to see the girl Malin, the half-elf that had told them about the Duskwood. She was deep in conversation with a sailor, who had his arm around her.

"You wanna hit that?" she asked, "I can take the sailor off the half-elf like water off a duck's back."

"No," Bishop said, "I assure you, I do _not _want to spend the night in those skinny arms. I do, however, have a score to settle with her. Watch my back."

He seized her arm and dragged her over to the fireplace. "Malin!" he barked, "Still playing girl-of-the-wood?"

"Ugh..." the half-elf said, grimacing motioning for her sailor to stay by her side, "I was wondering when you'd drag your sorry carcass back to Port Llast."

"You waited for me... I'm touched," he smirked, "Then again, it's not like you could have tracked me down if you wanted to."

Adahni caught the sailor's gaze, motioning with her head for them to step aside. He ignored her.

"If you have a problem with my tracker," Adahni said, "I suggest you forget it while I'm here."

"Who's your new mistress, Bishop? I didn't think any woman could break you... but maybe you were lying about that too!"

"And maybe you just couldn't handle me. But enough about ancient history... I don't think I've properly introduced the two of you."

Adahni looked at him sharply. He was playing the half elf, pretending Adahni was her replacement. She shrugged inwardly and decided to go along with it. At the end of the day, it wasn't Malin she was trusting with the safety of her band.

"This half-elf slip of a girl nearly got me - and herself - killed several times over while scouting the Luskan border. Impatience, incompetence, these things get scouts killed. That's the trouble when you're not fully an elf, and not fully human. It's like you've always got something to prove."

This comment struck Adahni exactly the wrong way. From the moment she had laid eyes on him, he had always had something to prove, even as a child. While the hypocrisy was all but kiling her, he was her companion and Malin was not, and she figured if she was going to expect anything out of him, she had better take his side.

"Well then, I guess it's good we have you. So how do you know him, anyway?" she asked Malin.

"Oh, this ought to be a good one. Go on, Malin, tell all..."

"Not while he's here," Malin said, turning her palm to them, "I've got better things to do." She turned back to the sailor and resumed their conversation.

"Thanks for correcting her," Adahni said to him as soon as they got back to the bar and were both holding full mugs of ale.

"Hm?" Bishop said, raising his eyebrows.

"When she called me your mistress," she said, "You didn't correct her."

"You didn't correct me either," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"When that woman walked out and I said she was afraid of the competition," he said, "You didn't correct me."

"We are both fully aware exactly how full of shit you are," Adahni said, rolling her eyes, "You don't need to be reminded of that." She took a long sip of her ale, "So what do you think we ought to do about this whole trial thing?"

"Me?" he said, "I think you and I ought to go off, find a hidden trail somewhere and camp for a year or two until this whole thing blows over."

She snorted, "Are you asking me to run away with you?"

He shrugged, "Well you asked my advice."

"It sounds like a good enough idea to me," she said.

"Then let's go," he said, looking up at her.

"You're serious, aren't you," she said.

"Yes."

"It's freezing out there."

"I can think of a few ways to warm up," he said.

She couldn't help the giggle that escaped her, or the raucous laughter that followed it, "You're something, kid, you are something," she said, wiping her eye. He didn't look terribly amused, "Listen, as much as I would love to skip town and see the world, I'd hate to have the rest of them take the fall for it."

He snorted, "You mean you'd hate to leave him," he gestured with a toss of his head at the paladin, "You'd hate to have him take the fall for it."

"What is your problem with him?" she asked, looking at him oddly, "I mean... he is a little sanctimonious, but his heart's in the right place."

"He's a hypocrite," Bishop said, "He's completely dishonest."

"So are you."

"But I admit to being dishonest. He just doesn't know enough to know when he's lying."

"What could you possibly be talking about?" Adahni asked, "He's not always right, but he's usually at least sincere."

"Sure, he's sincere," Bishop said, "He has his idea of how the world works, and when he comes up against something that throws a wrench in the gears, you for example, he lies to himself to make it all fit with his original idea. He completely ignores how you actually are, he's dreamed you up to be some kind of hero, some kind of noble altruistic being, when in reality..."

"What am I, in reality?" she asked. You are on very dangerous ground, friend... she thought. She didn't have her blade with her, nor was she dressed for a fight, but she had determined that he would have to choose his next words very, very carefully.

"You're human," Bishop said, "You're like the rest of us, you're nothing special."

"And?"

"He doesn't see that being a normal human, flaws and all, can be much preferable to some big noble hero that he thinks you are..."

"You have a lot to say," Adahni said, "Considering you don't even know me."

"Of course I know you," he said in disgust, "I _am_ you."

Before she could respond, he turned tail and stalked out of the inn.


	44. Stormclouds

The next morning, Grobnar woke Adahni two or three hours past dawn. He had geared up, putting on a little set of armor that she had not seen before. The bow he bore was finer than the one he had had before, and she imagined he had put several month's worth of tips at the Flagon towards a new set of equipment. He was positively vibrating with excitement at being invited along, and by the end of breakfast, even Elanee was showing signs of irritation at his exuberance. Bishop was still sore from the night before, from some insult that Adahni had visited upon him without realizing it, but she had really had quite enough of his attitude. Elanee would see them through the woods better than he would be able to.

Before she left, she took the little book of verse she had produced and left it under Casavir's pillow. She did not know where he had gone so early in the morning - probably to pray or something equally useless - but imagined he would find it come nightfall.

The snow had fallen for the better part of the day and night and the path was barely visible, even to Elanee's keen eyes. She led the way, her little badger trailing along behind her, and the companion followed her. Sand was visibly cold, his lips going blue around the edges, but he kept his mouth shut and didn't complain. They reached Duskwood by midmorning, and Elanee paused.

"Something about this forest... I can't hear the trees, their voices are strange," she said, "There's something wrong with them. It's some kind of poison, running up through their roots."

"Poison?" Adahni said, furrowing her eyebrows. She kicked at the snow, looking for any kind of clue on the earth she exposed.

"Yes... the poison - it's like a brightness... seeping from the ground into their branches."

"Well, maybe it has to do with whatever's going on here. But if it's causing you pain, we can head back and return tomorrow."

"No... I should be all right, but I am grateful for your concern," Elanee said, "I am curious what is causing this, though."

"I must warn you as well," Sand said, "The trees of Duskwood act as a damper on magical energies. My considerable talens may be reduced while I am here."

"Good thing we have Shandra and I's incredible physique to rely on," Adahni said, smirking.

Sand snickered, "To be honest, this little jaunt is turning out far more interesting than I'd hoped. I might even thank Nevalle if this keeps up."

They made their way through the snow, which by now was up to Shandra's shins, which put it at kneelevel to Adahni, Sand, and Elanee, and left poor Grobnar swimming through a thick white sea up to his waist. He spoke no word in complaint though. A few minutes in, when it was clear that he was struggling, Shandra reluctantly invited him to ride on her back. He clambered up onto the farmer's broad shoulders. He found, after a few practice shots, that he could shoot his bow from his perch without disrupting her movement. They entertained themselves for about an hour shouting targets for the gnome to hit while Shandra moved around, trying to mess up his shot. He was surprisingly talented, Adahni thought, watching him right himself again and again, tucking his small boots into Shandra's armpits for balance.

They were interrupted when Grobnar's arrow landed with a thunk into a tree. This would not have been all that odd, except for this tree gave a sigh and list to the right, and out of it stepped a little creature, a woman by the looks of her. She was small and brown and, where most women would have hair, she had little tendrils of ivy, winding around her face.

"Lorne!" she hissed, "Why haven't you held up your end of the bargain?"

"Yeah, Lorne," Sand said, looking at her, "Why haven't you held up your end of the bargain?"

"Remind me about our bargain?" Adahni said, "I was... I was drunk when we made it."

"You forgot?" she exclaimed, "How could... oh I get it... you're the one I disguised him as, then. Trying to prove your innocence, I assume?"

"Well yeah," Adahni said, "How did you disguise?"

"Alteration powder, a gift from a former guest. It allows you to appear as whomever you wish, for a time."

"Lorne and his men stopped nearby before heading on to the village. From my tree, I spied their conversation. The fool was simply going to rush in and kill everyone, and yet somehow blame you. I appeared and offered my help in the matter."

"Generous of you," Adahni snorted, looking down at her.

"Not really," the dryad sighed, "It was revenge - the villagers were slowly destroying my home, and it was an opportunity for me to destroy theirs first. I offered to disguise Lornes and his men if they would bring me the Glowstone that lies beneath this glade. He agreed... but I was a fool to trust him."

"So can I have more of this powder?"

"And why would I give it to you? What's in it for me?" the dryad asked.

"Anything you like," Adahni said.

"A Glowstone is corrupting the water that feeds the trees in this glade. One of Lorne's men was supposed to bring it to me. He's failed me... obviously, so you will bring the Glowstone to me, and I will give you the alteration powder."

"Glowstone?" Grobnar asked, cocking his head to the side, "I had a Glowstone once. but it was unique. I wonder how many there are?"

"Glowstone? Is that some kind of magic item? Or an artifact?"

"What it is doesn't matter. What does matter is that I want it," the dryad said, putting one hand on her hip and sticking out her lower lip.

"Fine," Adahni said, "It's a deal."

"So," Grobnar said from his perch on Shandra's shoulders, "Have you given any thought to _how _we're going to get it? Did you bring a shovel?"

"I imagine," Sand said, airily, "We can probably head ito the cave on the hill we just passed."

"What cave?"

"That one, you imbecile," the elf responded, pointing one long, manicured finger at a great crack in the rock of the mountain next to them.

"And what about that massive boulder blocking the entrance?" Grobnar responded, "Have you given any thought to that, Master Wizard?"

Sand grumbled something incoherent. Shandra and Adahni did their best to shove the large rock out of the way, but the damn thing would not budge. "Do you think Khelgar would be able to?" Shandra asked.

"I doubt it," Adahni said, wiping a bead of sweat off of her forehead before it froze there, "We can head up the hill a bit, see if there's any sinkholes up there we can explore."

Sand, who had sat himself down on a rock outside the cave mouth and appeared to be deep in thought, perked up all of a sudden. "Do you suppose..." he said, "Do you suppose the cave beneath Ember might have gone further back?"

"What cave?"

"Bear with me here, Mistress Farlong," he said.

"Farishta."

"Whatever. Do you remember the little boy you seemed so fond of, the one hiding in the well beneath Ember?"

"Yes," Adahni said.

"He said that he was helped to survive by that odious ranger's hunting knife. Now a knife is useful for many things, but keeping warm in the winter is not the first thing that comes to mind."

"What are you getting at, Sand?" she asked.

"You can't have a knife fight with the cold," Sand said, "So he must have used it for something else. Something like, perhaps, fighting off an attack of the hostile denizens of the cave."

"We didn't see anything down there," Adahni said.

"You were too busy nursing the damn child to have explored," he said.

"As I recall," Shandra put in, "It was you that was intent on leaving the well to check out the village."

"Nevermind that," Sand said, "My point is that we ought to give the cave a further look, see if there are any passages that might run under this very wood."

"All right," Adahni said, "But I think we ought to check out the rest of the wood first, see if there's anything else before we waste half a day trekking back to Ember."

* * *

"The body of a miner and two gnomish werewolves," Adahni muttered as they made their way into the village center, "Not to discount all the other very odd things I have run into, but this has got to be one of the strangest days I have had in a very, very long time."

"Well at least you got a prize," Sand said, looking in thinly veiled disgust at a collection of dessicated insects that Elanee had slung over her shoulder. They climbed, hand over hand, down into the well. This time, Adahni concentrated, as she had on the night they had hiked to the Skymirror, and turned herself into a human beacon of light. The slipped and glided their way over the frozen underground stream. The passageway got smaller and narrower, and the stream disappeared under the rocks beneath their feet. Eventually, the ice turned to solid rock and, to Adahni's astonishment, there was a door set into the very stone of the cavern.

"Look out!" she heard the snarl as soon as they had stepped through it, "A gnome! Wake up!"

She squinted until she could make out the form of an intensely ugly hairy little creature blocking their way. No taller than Grobnar, he had a prominent jaw and brow and pointly little teeth, "Stay back!" it ordered, "Or we kill you!"

"Yeah, good luck with that," she snorted.

"Fine! Attack!!!"

They quickly found themselves beset on all sides by the diminutive fiends. While the goblins put up an admirable fight, at the end of the day, the size advantage won out over numbers. Soon, the goblin caverns underneath Ember were as desolate as the village above. Adahni, while not exactly feeling guilty, was glad that the paladin was not there to see it. In the corner of an antechamber was a sickly green stone from which a glow emanated. She darted in and snatched it up while Sand began picking through the bodies' belongings.

"Look! Another piece to the puzzle!" he cried in triumph, holding a glittering ring up in the torchlight.

"It's just a ring," Shandra said.

"You see these... the teeth-like projections around the edge? This ring is a symbol of the Circle of Blades, a group of murderers native to Luskan."

Adahni felt the cold shivers go up her spine, as they always did at the mention of the name of the guild.

"The man the goblins killed was an assassin... very far from home it seems."

"Turning up everywhere, are they," Adahni muttered, "I suppose it's to be expected. Insects can thrive in almost any climate. I hope this isworth slaughtering a village for."

"They're just goblins," Sand commented disdainfully.

Adahni sighed, "And the people of Ember?"

"Well," Sand said, "Let's hope that the arm of goblin law is slightly shorter than that of Luskan, shall we?"

* * *

A cold spell froze Port Llast harbor the day after they returned, and so they stayed at the inn a few more days, gathering their spirits. Sand pored over the evidence they had collected, scratching notes on his scroll. On the fifth day, the boarded a ship bound for Neverwinter, arriving in the dead of night and the bitter cold. Wordlessly, the companions set off for the inn. Adahni followed them, a few paces behind.

"May I have a word with you?" she heard an eerily familiar voice call. She turned, and to her horror saw Torio Claven standing under a lantern.

"What in the hells do you want?"

"I just want you to know, my dear," Torio said, smiling, "That I know what you've been doing. I just wanted to assure you that you've wasted the past half a month, and that nothing you will do is going to keep your boots from dangling underneath a gallows by the time I'm done with you." Throughout the speech, the smile never left her face.

"I feel sorry for you, Mistress Claven," Adahni said, smirking, "Playing politics like this is the mark of someone who is truly too stupid for a real career - and too revolting to keep her husband at home and not off cavorting with dockside whores..."

The smile remained but the eyes grew dark and cloudy.

"You'll hang before the summer comes. Enjoy these months, they'll be your last."

She snapped her fingers in the air and two bodyguards melted out of the darkness to flank her. Adahni stood and stared as they disappeared into the night, hatred and fear and anger fighting for her attention. The wind picked up behind her, blowing her hair into her face. She turned to face the sea and the wind, and the snow which had begun pelting her in hard little flakes. She took a lungful of air, and screamed into the howling wind. She screamed her anger, her frustration, her fatigue... The roar of the waves swallowed her voice, and her screams were silenced. Still, though, she stayed, defiant in the face coming storm.


	45. The Paladin's Confession

She splashed warm water on her face, trying to ease the chill of the outside. Her throat hurt. It was probably from all that nonsensical screaming she had done out by the docks. But what else could she do? The Luskans seemed to have everything in place for her to be hanging from the highest gallows before the week was out. And for such a crime! She had done everything she was supposed to do, collected all the evidence, all the testimony. It would have been obvious to anybody with a brain that she was innocent. But she still got sideways glances from townspeople.. Just thinking of it frustrated her to no end; it was all she could do not to let loose another howl of outrage.

The howl came out as a strangulated sob. She jumped to her feet and danced antsily back and forth, one foot to the other. She started throwing punches at the air. Left, right, up, her fists collided imaginarily with Torio Claven's smug face. She wondered if the ambassador knew that she was the harlot her husband had gone to while she was fulfilling her duties as an ambassador, if she knew that the money she had given the man while she was gone had gone straight into Adahni's purse, if she knew whose knife it was who had torn him from this plane… had they ever even found the body? Dayven… or not-Dayven if he was to be believed… said he'd dump him in the river. She would imagine that one out of four bodies dumped in the river ever resurfaced. Maybe she didn't even know he was dead, maybe she thought he had skipped out on her, left her for someone younger and stupider. And it would seem that if she knew that, then getting rid of Adahni would simply mean divulging that choice bit of information.

She threw more of her weight into her imaginary fight, striking out with elbows and knees, dancing up and down the length of the room. _Bitch! Whore! Piece of Luskan filth! _

Then her fist hit something that wasn't the air.

"Aw, you bitch!" the ranger cried, his voice muffled by the two hands he was holding over his mouth.

"Serves you the fuck right," she retorted, "What in the hells do you think you're doing, barging into a lady's room?"

"I don't see any lady here," he replied, removing his hand from his mouth and examining it for blood, "What was that about?"

"Working off some steam," she replied, "Here, let me take a look at that." The ranger bared his teeth, which were stained red from the cut on his rapidly swelling lip, "Ah, you can take care of that yourself."

"I'd rather you did it," he said, impudently seating himself on her bed.

"I had to take care of myself," she said, "Don't be a baby. You still haven't told me what you were doing here."

"Well, one of the qualms I have with staying in those bunk rooms," he said, "Is the company I am forced to keep there. Why, this week, its three Calumshan merchant navymen. One of them is currently occupying my bunk in the company of two lusty dockside whores. The other two, I believe, are entertaining our friend Neeshka on her bunk. This has put Elanee and Qara out of that room and onto Shandra's floor, leaving out any possibility of me slipping between those sheets, and I've tried, believe me. The dwarf snores like a fiend, and the gnome talks in his sleep. So that leaves two rooms left, and please don't take this as too much of a compliment, but I much prefer your company to the paladin's."

"So now I'm stuck with you, all because some randy sailor from Calumshan can't afford a single room?"

"Well you could always bunk in with the Paladin," Bishop suggested, "But you won't, because you're like all women. You're bold as brass with most men... loose as an ill-fitting belt, too. If it were any other man you were only interested in for the contents of his trousers, you'd be in there like a flash, batting your eyes and biting your lip until he put you out of your misery."

She listened to all of this quietly, calmly. When he was done, and waiting for some kind of answer, she reached out and slapped him hard across the face.

The ranger started back as though he was surprised. She'd hit him plenty of times, but always with a closed fist or the back of her hand. He put his hand to his cheek and gave her a look that was more shocked than angry. Suddenly, she saw the little boy she had held in her arms that winter's morning, and somehow felt guilty.

"I deserved that," he said. It was her turn to look at him in shock. An apology? That was something new and different.

"Yes you did," she replied.

He was silent, his amber gaze leveled on her for a long time."I'm sorry," he said, finally.

"Don't worry about it," she said, looking at him oddly. Something about the way he was talking struck her as extremely odd, considering the only words he had thrown her way for the month and a half of their acquaintance were comments, and not always favorable ones, on her body. For all his brash talk and worldly ways, he was still a boy just past his nineteenth birthday, a fact which had never really registered to her beforehand. Impulsively, she reached out and ruffled his hair, like she would have done to a younger brother.

He leaned into her hand, taking it in his own and pressing it against his cheek. Then he pulled her to him, and kissed her in the desperate, ravenous fashion that young men do. She felt the stubble that always lay thickly on his chin and cheeks scrape her face, his teeth collide with hers. She opened her mouth to his, not quite sure if it was voluntarily or not, and she could feel the softness of his mouth, taste the blood she'd left on his lips, and smell his sweet boozy breath.

_Of course,_ she thought. _He's drunk. He is drunk and much younger than me, not to mention being Kyla's little brother_ - another fact which was registering less and less frequently the more she saw of him - _but still makes this wrong _wrong** wrong!** _I can't… _She shook her head and pulled away, removing his hands violently from where they had nestled, entangled at the back of her head.

"Frigid bitch," he muttered.

"You know what," she said, pushing herself off of the bed, "You can go ahead and take my bed. I'll go see if Neeshka will share one of those sailors with me." She stalked out of the door, fuming inwardly at how easily he could have had her, if she were only not so sober.

"So what is it, then?" he called after her, "You can whore yourself with every man in the city but when it comes to men you actually know, that you've trusted with your life, you're chaste as a priestess!"

"Go to bed, Princess. You're drunk."

She wandered back into the barroom. _What in the hells was that about? _she wondered. _It's nothing, he's drunk, doesn't have the coin to pay for one, and all the other girls were smart and used the buddy system. Still, all things considered, he really – stop! _She silenced her thoughts.

She hadn't eaten yet, and commenced doing so at a table. It was not yet midnight, but her companions had all already gone to bed. Sal's soup was watery that night, with a few chunks of meat and potatoes, but it was mostly broth. But, it was hot and savory, so she didn't complain. She cast about for the paladin, wondering if he had had a chance to take a look at her project yet. As if on cue, he walked out into the barroom and looked around. She waved, and he strode over to her table.

"This is extraordinary," he said. His pale cheeks were pink with heat or excitement. He set the little book down on the table in front of Adahni, narrowly missing her bowl of soup. He sat down across from her, "I'd never seen these songs written down before, none of the scholars thought them worth memorializing. You've done a great service."

"Yes, to amorous young men everywhere," she said, smiling. While she had been hoping to get through the evening without being asked to play or to interact with too many people, she welcomed his company. As always. It sent a thrill of pride through her, first, that he had bothered to read her little collection of songs, and second, that he had enjoyed them.

"And the women they love," the paladin replied.

"Which was your favorite?" she asked.

"The ones I did not recognize. The last one, the song of the village maiden to her soldier boy, I would like to hear that one sung."

"I would be happy to oblige you," she said, "It is drinking time, after all, and I'm sure Duncan will come storming out at some point, demanding to know why I'm not entertaining."

"No," he said, "It's not a song for drinking."

"It's a love song like all the others," she replied, trying to keep the crimson from her cheeks.

"You wrote it, didn't you," he said, looking at her.

She nodded, looking at her plate, "It is not from a village girl to a soldier boy," she said. She thought fleetingly about what Bishop had said about her and men – Casavir in particular. He was right, she wasn't herself around him, but, perhaps….she put her foot out on the limb, tested it for stability, "It is from a sword-maiden to the knight she fights beside."

"You've quite a talent, though I'm sure I have said that before," he replied. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze, "Would you come to my chamber with me?"

She looked at him in confusion. There were some people who were perfectly happy to spend time with friends in their bedrooms, regarding it as just another chamber in the house, while others regarded it as an inner sanctum, privy to none but themselves. Casavir struck her as the latter type. He counted as nobility, to Duncan anyway, and had been given a room that he did not have to share, much like Adahni and Shandra had been given. She had never seen the inside of it. Not that, she imagined, it was much different than her own. None of them really had much time to decorate.

"I have something to tell you. In private," he said.

Her heart gave an involuntary leap against her ribcage. He picked up the book he had set down in front of her and turned to go back to his chamber. She took a last bite of dinner and followed him.

His room, like hers, housed a large bed, a chair, and a bookshelf. Unlike hers, the books on his shelf were neatly lined up like soldiers before their superior. She seated herself gingerly in the chair, and he sat on the foot of his bed.

"So what is it that's going on?" she asked, "That you'd drag me out of a crowded bar at drinking time?"

"It's barely drinking time anymore, everyone's gone to bed," he said, "Except for you and me and a few sundry drunks. And…" he paused. A loud crack sounded as something in the next room slammed against the wall, "…well it appears Neeshka is still awake."

Adahni looked at the place where the noise had come from. It took her a moment to realize exactly what it was that was banging against the wall. When she realized, she put her face in her hands and laughed silently. "Do you find her behavior scandalous?" she asked.

The paladin shrugged, "I'm not a priest. I'm a paladin, and a poor one at that."

"A poor one?" she asked, "Your mace has saved my skin on many occasions. I would hardly call your work 'poor.'"

"A paladin," he said, "A paladin does not allow his feelings to come before his cause."

"You told me not long ago that you feel that you have regained your path," she replied, "That coming back has steadied you in your purpose that you might serve again."

"I said that _you_ have steadied me," he said, his pale blue eyes focusing on her face, "And I thank you deeply for that. But I am also shaken."

"Shaken?"

"I've lost myself to my own bull-headedness in running off to Old Owl Well. I allowed myself to waver, to lose control. I once ran from my duty to a cloister, and then to the outskirts of civilization. And I fear now that I have found another worthy cause, and a noble leader, that I will lose myself to a woman next."

"I see," said Adahni. She nearly dared to hope.

"She blinds me," he said, swallowing hard, gazing at her with shame in his eyes, "Your little anthology has given me the courage to speak to you about it. Knowing that you wrote such words tells me you, too, must have an understanding of love."

Her insides froze. She struggled to keep her voice level, "A little," she said, "I suppose, but remember that a blacksmith may forge a master sword and yet have no idea how to wield it."

"But you were married once, you must have had lovers before," he said.

She nodded, "A few."

"But none stirs you as the first," he declared.

"The third and fourth are all right as well," she commented, thinking first on Jem Quarely and then on that strange and fleeting

"Not me," he said, shaking his head, "I have only loved but once, and it has brought me only sorrow. I was very much younger when I first met her, a lad of not yet twenty."

She thought for a moment. It was stupid, of course, if he were not yet twenty then she was not yet thirteen. He wouldn't have been in Luskan either, or let his gaze fall on a lowly streetwalker. She felt her heart splash into her stomach and felt the bitter disappointment creep into the back of her throat, "A noble lady?"

"The daughter of a lord. Her name is Vania," he said, pronouncing each syllable as though it tasted sweet passing through his lips, "I saw her yesterday, in the merchant district. She is still as beautiful as I remember her. She didn't see me, or didn't recognize me. She has forgotten me, I know, but I cannot forget her."

_ Have you even exchanged two words with her? Has _she_ steadied you, shown you the right path? Have you shared as many lonely nights around the campfire with _her_? _She wanted to scream. _Have you been as honest with her as you're being with me right now?_

"I'm sure she could not forget you," Adahni replied, bowing her head to hide her inflamed cheeks.

He smiled, reached out, put his hand under her chin and tipped up her head, forcing her to look him in the face. "I'm sorry, have I embarrassed you? I have never told anyone of this, not even my brothers in arms."

"I _am_ your brother in arms," Adahni replied, forcing a smile and retreating from his touch.

"So now you know my great secret, Addie," Casavir said, tucking one leg up under his chin, "Do you think any less of me?"

_He's never called me 'Addie' before. It's always been 'my lady' this and 'my lady' that. _She liked the sound of her name as it tripped off his tongue. It was too bad, though, that he would use it only when confessing his love for another.

"How has she brought you sorrow?" Adahni asked.

"She is married," he said, "And has been for ten years or so, to a man old enough to be her father. She did not wed of her own accord, but under duress from her family…"

"It's her, isn't it?" Adahni said quietly, "The girl your squire was murdered over."

Casavir nodded, "And not a day goes by when I do not regret my love for her."

"It must have killed you to know that your best friend won her," Adahni said. Something occurred to her just then, a piece of the puzzle that was Casavir falling cleanly into place. There was a reason he had never wed, why he would not allow himself to get beyond the girl he had loved as a child. She had always thought it strange that he expressed so much guilt over killinig the girl's brother, ten years in a cloister and then at Old Owl Well was a little excessive for the death of a stranger killed in honorable battle. It wasn't the brother he was guilty about killing... it was his squire. _It was his fault, _she thought, _He was jealous and ratted them out. All of this was his doing._

"He had a way with words that I never had," he said.

She was silent for a moment. It would be a serious accusation if it were untrue. And if it were true, hearing it from her would sting. But she had never been one to mince her words, and now that she knew there was no chance that he would ever think of her as anything more than a companion, a clever little pet who wrote pretty poems that he could show his lady love, she didn't really care what he thought of her anymore. "You told on them, didn't you," she commented.

He looked up at her in surprise.

"Here I was, thinking this was a story of two rivals over a girl, and her choosing the young man over the rich old one and losing him because of it," she said, smiling, "But I left a piece out. There was a third man in love with the beautiful girl, none other than her lover's own brother in arms!"

"I didn't mean for him to be killed," Casavir said bitterly, "Knowing what I know now I would have done anything for them to be happy together, even to my exclusion. I was young and foolish, but know that I never intended for that to happen."

"Nobody intends for anything bad to happen those they love," Adahni said. She wasn't really angry at him, there was no point in being angry at someone who had committed no crime beyond not loving you back. There was, though, a certain perverse satisfaction in skewering him with his past misdeeds.

"I swear to all the gods I didn't know," he said, gritting his teeth.

"I know," she said. Suddenly she regretted her rash words, felt shame over her happiness at his painful memories. She chose her next words carefully, "I'm not judging you for it, everyone's done something they regret over a member of the opposite sex. Ten years is a long time. Ten years ago, I was a child of fourteen."

He nodded, "Do you think she can forgive me?'

"If I were married to a man that old, I wouldn't care who it was that came to take me away from him," Adahni said, "So long as he was young and handsome and loved me."

He smiled, "Do you think you could go with me, to her house?" he asked, "I have the words now, if you'll let me borrow them…" he said, holding up the little book, "The words I never had before, to win her heart. Would you come with me, stand by my side, so that I don't lose my nerve?"

"Anything for you," she said, and realized that for the first time saying it to anybody, she actually meant it.

"You have brought me great comfort," he said, smiling at her. He reached over and smoothed her hair back from her face, less like a master would pet a dog and more like an older brother would to his little sister. He kissed her on the forehead like he had before, "You are a good friend."

"I'm glad I could comfort you," she said, the sorrow in her heart bubbling over, "I should get some sleep. And you should think of how to regain your long lost love."

"I shall," he replied.

_Stupid stupid stupid stupid. Of course you saw this coming. Ugh, how embarrassing! _She made her way back to her own room. She saw the ranger, sprawled on her bed, his shirt tossed in the corner and his boots beneath the bed. _Well at least I'm not the only person to be summarily rejected tonight. _

"What in the hells do you want?" Bishop asked, his pale eyes flying open as she shoved him over and crawled under the covers beside him.

"To get some sleep in my own bed," she said, "Shove over."

He shoved over, obligingly. They were silent for so long she thought for sure he would have fallen asleep by then.

"He's in love with someone else," she said, "Are you happy now?"

"Well yes," the ranger said, "You deserve someone less sanctimonious."

"Well thanks for looking out for my well being," she said sarcastically, "I'm going to sleep now. If you don't behave yourself, I am going to kill you."

"Yes, mum," the ranger said. He rolled to the very edge of the bed and lay on his back, his arms by his sides. She was silent a moment, forcing her thoughts away from Casavir. She found herself thinking, cringingly, of the very odd kiss that her newfound bedmate had bestowed upon her. And then, she found she could not _stop _thinking about it, and how oddly familiar it was and…_ we've already established that Dayven was not the one who rescued…._ She suddenly felt incredibly stupid. She had figured out the puzzle of Casavir before figuring out the puzzle of her own damn self.

"Kyrwan?" she said.

"Don't call me that," he replied.

"Bishop, then."

"What?"

"Thanks," she said.

"For what?"

"That night in Luskan, the night I killed Kyla's murderer. You spared me when it would have been just as easy to kill me like you'd been ordered to do. And I thank you for it."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," he said, "Go to sleep."

"I know it was you."

"You would be surprised at how many times our paths have crossed."

"I wish I knew what that meant," she sighed. She stretched out on her back and stared at the ceiling, the beams and planks above her head. There was nearly a foot between them, but she could feel the warmth radiating off of him. Impulsively, she groped beside until she found his hand, rough and callused. She laced her fingers through his. He squeezed her hand, almost imperceptibly, and didn't let it go. They lay there, their arms a feeble bridge between their bodies, a small token of affection to avoid sleeping alone on a cold night. She closed her eyes and took comfort in the presence of another, even if it wasn't the one she wanted.


	46. Love's a Drag

"This is pure humiliation," Adahni grumbled, tugging on a pair of leather breaches and fumbling with the buttons. She had bound her bosom with bandages and wore a shirt belonging to Khelgar, which was entirely too big but, unlike Casavir's, didn't cover her to her knees. She braided her hair up and pinned it to the top of her head. With a feathered gallant's hat on top of it, her clunky boots disguising anything feminine about her feet, and a cloak that distracted from the minimized, yet still noticeable bulge at her chest, she could have passed as man. In the dark, it wouldn't really matter, as long as she kept her mouth shut.

Shandra, Neeshka, and Elanee, present for the transformation, looked at each other and clucked their approval. "I'd give you a dance," Elanee said, smiling behind her hand.

"You're the only one here that's not a head taller than me," Adahni said, "I look like an overgrown halfling." She adjusted her hat, tucking an ebony wisp of hair back under it and peering at her reflection, "I don't see why the valiant knight couldn't have a female squire accompany him to sing under his lady love's window."

"I still don't see why you're doing it," Shandra said, "You don't owe him anything... let alone this."

"Hopefully, I'll be able to cash in this gargantuan favor at a later time," Adahni said, "I've been sending her letters in his name for weeks, some of my best work, too. If I never make another flowery declaration of love it'll be too soon." She sighed heavily, "Although I suppose I owe the rest of you that much, not that men are so easily swayed by pretty words."

"I'll keep that in mind next time I need to get laid," Shandra said crudely.

"Just cause I look like a sixteen-year-old boy doesn't mean I'm interested in you that way," Adahni replied, "All right, ladies, I'm off to go surrender my dignity under the window of some random slut."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Shandra quipped.

"Shut up, Jerro," Adahni said. She picked up her mandolin from the corner of the room and tuned it.

Casavir was waiting for her outside the inn. He'd shaved and bathed and was dressed in a fine suit of cloth that she could not identify, but was sure probably cost more than she had ever seen in her life.

"You owe me," she said, furrowing her brow at him in mock anger.

Casavir was clearly doing everything in his power to keep from laughing out loud. _If I actually thought this would work, _she thought, _I would be hiding in my room crying. This is just ridiculous enough... _She grinned and played a few bars on the mandolin, dancing from foot to foot and grinning.

"You know," she said, as they walked along the darkened streets towards Blacklake, "I never would have pegged you as one to try and woo a married woman away from her husband. Either I've underestimated you, or I'm beginning to rub off on you!"

"You have a point," he said, "You have had a bit of an effect on me. After dismissing my feelings as inappropriate for the better part of a decade, I am glad to have someone so close to me encouraging me to, how do you say, break a few rules. For years, I was convinced that acting as I am now would be a betrayal of my late squire, but now..."

"I would rather see someone I loved in the arms of someone I cared for than lost forever in a cold, loveless marriage," Adahni said.

"I have prayed long on this," he replied, "He was as devoted to Tyr as I, and I know that he would forgive."

"You are doing nothing wrong," she said, "You are simply presenting yourself. Should she refuse, it will be of her own accord, not because her relatives have an economic interest in her."

"That outfit you have on is incredibly distracting," Casavir said, looking down at her. The hat kept her from seeing him unless she turned her head up to look him in the face, which she did, squinting to see him in the pale moonlight, "You make a handsome lad."

"I make a short lad," she replied, "Remember, I'm just here as musical support."

"And moral," he said, slinging an arm about her shoulders. Out of armor, she could feel the warmth of his skin beneath the cloth of his tunic, the hardness of his body. She shuddered in spite of herself, starting to feel positively miserable. The constriction of the bandages about her chest was constricting her breathing... or was it related to that sick feeling in her heart?

They approached a large estate on the southeast corner of the Blacklake district. It was surrounded by a small garden, the branches of the rose bushes and small flowering trees graced with a glittering coating of ice. A small balcony overlooked the garden, which Adahni imagined was their target.

"So how do we do this?" she asked, "Throw a rock at the window? How do we avoid waking the husband?"

"I hadn't thought of that," he replied.

"Of course you hadn't," she said, rolling her eyes, relying on the wide brim of her hat to disguise the expression from him, "It's all right. Worst case scenario, we get chased from the district by his guards. I will need to tell you, I'm unarmed."

"As am I," Casavir said, "Should we be worried?"

"I'm not," Adahni said, "I don't run that fast, but I don't have to outrun the guards."

"You don't?"

"I only have to outrun you," she said, "They'll haul you in, but I'm sure I can get you out tomorrow when I'm not in this ridiculous getup. If Cormick sees me like this, I will never hear the end of it."

In an act that Adahni imagined must have taken his last nerve, he scooped up some of the snow from the ground, molded it into a small white missile, and heaved it. It splattered against the window. He flinched at the noise, and Adahni suppressed a nervous giggle.

"All right," she said, playing a bar on the mandolin, "There's no turning back now."

"Who's there?" a woman's voice came from inside. The door to the balcony squeaked open, and she walked out. She was Casavir's age, from what Adahni could see of her in the half light, a bit of silver winding its way through her hair, but the face that peered down at them was a vision of beauty. Adahni swallowed her jealousy, and turned her attention to her music. She played a slow waltz.

"Cas?" the woman exclaimed, and quickly clapped both hands over her mouth. She leaned over the balcony and called, quietly as she could, "Is that you?"

"Yes," he said. He looked at Adahni for support. She nodded at him, "It's... me."

"You've come!" she exclaimed, "I thought you would never actually..."

"I am here because..."

"Dammit, Casavir, like we talked about!" Adahni hissed.

"I love you!" he called.

It was all Adahni could do not to slap her face with her palm. If he kept this up, she would know for sure that the letters had not been penned by him.

"Vania, I have always loved you. Come away with me, leave this place."

_Why did he drag me out here if he was just going to go about it in his own clumsy way?_

"You blind me like the sun at noontime," he called.

_That's more like it._

"The thought of you has kept me going these long years I have been away, you are a single rose blooming in the... in the..."

"Dead of winter," Adahni prompted him.

"Dead of winter! You are and always have been my only love, grace me with a single smile and I may die a happy man! Leave him, come away with me!"

"I..."

"I would never presume to own the woman I love," he said, "My only regret is that I did not come sooner, to rescue you from being kept like a rare treasure in the hands of a greedy dragon! I cannot offer you silver or land, but I would never dare to put a price on that which is priceless! Come away with me, Vania, you are my hope, my life, my light in the darkness!"

Adahni looked up at him. His face was upturned and his skin was very pale in the moonlight. He was chewing his lower lip nervously. _If he looked at me the way he's looking at her right now, I could die a happy woman, _she thought.

Vania glanced behind her, "Shhh! My husband's coming!"

"I'm not leaving without an answer," he said.

She looked behind her again, "Come to me in three day's time."

"You'll come away with me?"

"Yes," she whispered, just loud enough for them to hear. She reached into bodice and took out a small, ladylike lace handkerchief. Leaning over the railing, she tossed it to him. He caught it in the air. "Now get out of here, before he sees you!"

"Anything you ask, my love!" he called back. She turned around, looking back once before retreating back into her bedroom. Adahni let up her playing.

"All right, you've gotten what you came for, let's get the hells out of here!" she hissed.

Casavir was silent, staring at the little scrap of lacy cloth in his hand.

"Come on!"

She took him by the elbow and dragged him out of the garden, back into the neutral territory of the street, still staring at her handkerchief. He was silent, in a revery the entire way back to the inn. Adahni went right to her room and changed into clothes that made her look and feel halfway female, and let her hair down. Her fingers were sore from playing and the cold. On the way in, she'd observed that Grobnar was playing his concertina, and was hopeful that she would get a reprieve. She needed a drink, a real drink, and hopefully the warmth of a man's embrace that night.

She went straight to the bar and ordered a glass of double malt whiskey. She downed it quickly and asked for another. Sal nodded at her knowingly and left the bottle. She poured herself glass after glass. After four or five, she was feeling a bit better, the warmth of the room and the liquor sending her into a bit of a euphoric state. When a young man, a longshoreman by the look of him, shyly asked her to dance, she agreed, enthusiastically, and danced graceful reel, concentrating on keeping her footing. After the set, she drank a few more tumblers of whiskey, and sauntered over to where Bishop, Neeshka, and two young sailors were seated. She seated herself between Bishop and one of the sailors.

"Ugh!" Neeshka groaned, "You reek of whiskey."

Adahni waved the half-full bottle in front of her. Neeshka seized it and put it to her lips. She handed it to the sailor to her right. Adahni saw her hand sneak around the young man's back, undoubtedly looking for his purse.

"No, that's not whiskey," Bishop said, "That's the sweet smell of despair."

"Thanks, Princess," Adahni said, slumping towards him, "You are most observant."

"You two," he barked, "Dance with the demon girl, I must have a word with my friend, the lush."

The sailors, silently, obeyed.

"You need no word with me," she said, "I can barely talk as it is." She grabbed the whiskey and took a long sip straight from the bottle. He snatched it out of her hand and did the same.

"What happened? The fair knight's lady love has agreed to leave her husband and lead a life of adventure with us?"

"Something like that," she mumbled.

"And so you're drinking yourself stupid."

"I'm not you, I need a few in me to become stupid."

"Thanks, Addie," he said, "For reminding me of my own inadequacies."

"Why not?" she growled, "I am. Every. Single. Damned. Day." She took another drink and slammed the bottle down on the table.

"What, because some sanctimonious prick chose a decorated cake of a lady over a soldier girl?" Bishop scoffed, "I've known a few women, and I'll be the first to tell you, the women with swords are always the most interesting."

"Are you complimenting me?" she slurred.

"Decidedly not!" he cried indignantly.

"Good," she said, and took another swig of whiskey. She rose, and went to retrieve her mandolin from her room. She grabbed it from the corner and strode back into the bar room. Grobnar waved at her merrily, and she managed a half-hearted smile.

"Would you care to play a set, my lady?" the gnome asked.

_My lady... _"Don't call me that, Gnomehands," Adahni said, "It's Addie, I wouldn't have you call me anything else."

"Of course, my... Addie."

"And I would care to play a set," she said, "Can you accompany me? I have a few old love songs I have a hankering to sing."

"I would be only too happy to accompany you, my... Addie. You have such a distinctive voice, for a girl!"

Adahni shot him a look, but imagined, even in her drunken state, that it was probably meant as a compliment. She played the introduction of the song. Grobnar hurriedly dropped his squeezebox and grabbed his oversized Luskan bagpipes. He inflated the bladder, going red in the face in the process, and sat on them, producing a loud, but not unpleasant wail.

_"__I'm as brown as brown can be,_

_My eyes are black as sloes,_

_  
I'm as brisk as a night-time nightingale_

_  
As wild as the forest doe._

_My love was high and proud,_

_  
A fortune by his side,_

_  
But a fairer maiden than ever I'll be_

_  
He took to be his bride...."_

She drawled out the lyrics, her voice gravelly from the cold air and the whiskey. She glanced up to see everyone staring at her. The room, suddenly, began wavering from side to side like a ship at sea.

_"He sent me a letter of love,_

_  
He sent it from the town,_

_  
He wrote to tell me that his love was lost_

_  
Because I am so brown."_

She swayed in her stool. She put down the mandolin. The room stopped wavering and began to spin. She saw Bishop and Neeshka rush up to her. "Addie... you're gray in the face!" she heard Neeshka cry, but her voice was far away and echoing as though she were on the other side of a precipice. She felt herself pitch forward and thought, for a moment, gazing at the floorboards, _This is going to hurt a lot, isn't it? _

Instead of hitting the floor, she hit the ranger's forearm, which he had extended out to catch her. He picked up her up slowly and brought her to her feet. She looked up at him, wondering which of his two faces she ought to focus on.

"I think I should go to bed," she said, a little dazed.

"Good luck making it there on your own," he said, "Come on, then!"

"No, no," she said, swaying unsteadily, "I'm drunk that not..." She turned her head sideways, squinting and trying to get him in focus, but then immediately doubled over and puked squarely down his right boot.

"Gods damn it, Addie," she heard him swear, fulling expecting him to push her away. Instead he grabbed her hair with one rough hand and held it out of the way of the second torrent of vomit.

"OK, I am bedding to go now..." she said, trying to turn.

"Nope, no, not like that," he said, "All right, people. The show's over!" Bishpo announced. He scooped her up by the waist and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She tried to get him to put her down, pounding her fists and against his back, her legs flailing uselessly in the air. The crowd erupted in whoops and laughter as he gave her another hoist and carried her

back to her room.

If she had been awake at that point, she would have remembered him turning her on her stomach in case she vomited again, covering her in a quilt, and stoking the fire before leaving. But by that time, Addie's world had gone completely black.


	47. The Collector's Jewel

Adahni woke up the next morning with her head feeling as though a thousand hornets had made their nest inside her skull. This was not helped by the fact that Neeshka was shaking her by her shoulders and calling her name over and over again. She forced her eyes open, looked around. She tasted the old bile in her mouth and nearly retched again, remembering her behavior the night before.

"Here, drink this," Neeshka said, thrusting a vile into her hands. Adahni sat up slowly.

"What is this?"

"Sand made it, it'll cure your hangover," she said.

"All right," Adahni said, and drank it down. Almost immediately, the pain in her head receded and her stomach stopped its dreadful twisting.

"Drink this too, your breath smells like something crawled into your throat and died," the tiefling said, extending a second potion. This one was nothing more than a distillation of mint tea that took the icky vomit taste out of her mouth and left feeling quite a bit cleaner.

"So to what do I owe this sudden concern?" Adahni asked, squinting at the tiefling.

"An old colleague of mine is out front," Neeshka said, fiddling with her tail, "I'm afraid to go out without some muscle by my side, and nobody will hear of it unless you're there. Even Bishop!"

"Neesh, did I puke on him last night?"

"Yes you did, but you bought him those boots anyway, and if Tasha's here for what I think she's here for, there'll be enough loot in it to buy him a new pair!" Neeshka said, stamping her foot in impatience.

"Fine, fine," Adahni sighed, "Let me get armored up."

She rinsed her hair with the rest of the water in the pitcher by the fire, brushed it, and pinned it up under a kerchief. She slid into her armor, which had lain unused since they'd been back from Port Llast. It felt comfortable and familiar letting the links fall into place over her body. She buckled on rapier and shield, and went out into the barroom, where Neeshka seemed to be having the same conversation she'd just had with her with Shandra, Sand, and Khelgar. Khelgar looked at Adahni quizzically. She nodded. The dwarf shrugged, and without further ado, they five of them went out into the bright morning.

The woman with the mannish haircut was waiting for them, just as she said she'd be.

"Leldon said you were back," she said, her eyes falling on Neeshka, "I didn't believe you'd have the nerve to show your face here again! I see you've proved me wrong."

"So you and Leldon, huh?" Neeshka said.

"That's old news. I was just here to bring you a bit of new news, as it were. Leldon's planning one final job before he and I retire to Calumshan to live like royalty," she said haughtily, "He's going to rob the Collector!"

"Nobody's ever successfully robbed the Collector," Neeshka scoffed, "He's got more guards than you've got fleas!"

Leldon's paramour ignored this comment gracefully, "We'll see about that. I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to worry about him anymore. He's quite happy to let you be the second greatest thief in Neverwinter."

Before Neeshka could retort – and Adahni was sure she wanted to – the woman turned and sashayed away down the street. When she was out of earshot Adahni asked, "So who's the Collector?"

"He's this eccentric old noble… not quite Aldanon eccentric, but eccentric nonetheless," Neeshka said, "He makes a habit of collecting pretty and valuable things and locking them up in his mansion in Blacklake. Nobody's ever managed to crack his vault, it's a bit of a legend among Neverwinter thieves."

"Let me guess," Adahni said, "You want to do it before Leldon does."

"You betcha," Neeshka declared, smiling mischievously.

"And this is the job that's going to make us all rich?"

"Yep!"

"All right," Adahni sighed, "Lead the way."

Shandra looked at her in befuddlement. "We're going to _rob _a man?"

"Not just any man," Neeshka said, "The Collector!"

"But that's wrong!"

"He kills puppies for sport," Adahni said, "Let's go."

Shandra shook her head, but trailed after the rest of them. Sand didn't say a word, evidently really not caring one way or another. Khelgar, by this time, was entirely too used to Neeshka's ways to expect anything else.

They approached Blacklake from the south. Neeshka knew the way and skipped ahead of them, complaining that they were all too damned slow for her taste. Adahni grew increasingly uneasy as they drew closer and closer to a familiar set of houses. Finally, Neeshka stopped in a frozen garden outside a large mansion - just underneath the balcony - and pointed to the door.

"You have got to be kidding me," Adahni said, "This is the Collector's house?"

"Yes!"

"Well," Adahni said, "At least I know there's one pretty thing in there that's already been stolen."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Neeshka.

"You'll see."

They beat the guards black and blue, the element of surprise on their side. Considering the Collector's reputation, the downstairs seemed almost entirely void of fine things. The paintings on the walls were nothing special, and the furniture was downright sparse. They went through, room by room, and found precious little of value. Neeshka was bad at disguising her confusion. Finally, she unlocked the door to a bedroom, and the five of them slowly walked in.

Standing with her back to them in front of an open trunk stood a young woman with yellow hair. She whirled when she heard the door click open, and Adahni found herself face to face with her unwitting rival. In the daylight, she was less perfect than in the moonlight on her balcony, but she was still a lovely creature, tall and willowy. Her hair was paler than Shandra's, and swept back behind a barrette decorated with a red silken rose. Behind her, Adahni could see that the trunk she packed was full of fine dresses and shoes.

"What are you doing here!" Vania snapped, clearly shaken at being discovered, "How dare you!" _She thinks we're newly hired guards or some such nonsense._

"Shhh!" Adahni said, "We're patrolling for intruders."

"Well you'll find none here," she said, "Get back to the front door where you'll be useful."

"What are you packing, Ma'am?" Adahni asked, peering around her at the trunk.

"Nothing!" she said, "I'm simply… packing away some of my summer things."

"Those are woolen gowns," Adahni observed, "You're not planning on leaving, are you?"

Vania looked desperately from side to side, wringing her hands, "Please! Don't tell my husband! I'm only… only going to see my sister! Yes, my sister, in… um… Port Llast. She's about to have a baby, and he forbade me from leaving, but I've just got to… you know how a woman needs her family about her when she gives birth, don't you?"

"I don't," Adahni replied, "But you have my silence, my lady, if you'll do a small thing for me."

Relief washed over Vania's face, "Anything."

"Help me get into your husband's vault," she said.

To her astonishment, a smile broke over Vania's pale face, "That I can help you with," she said, "Here, you'll need this key to get to the upper level. Take me with, put a dagger to my back and pretend you've taken me hostage. I'll play the damsel in the distress, and he'll have to let you in with his key, or you'll threaten to kill me! He would hate to lose the centerpiece of his collection."

Neeshka laughed, "You seem eager."

"You don't know what it's _like _being married to him!" Vania sighed, "I'm just another ornament to him, he'd stick me in a glass case and display me to guests if he thought he could get away with it."

"So why'd you marry him?" asked Shandra.

The smile fell from Vania's face, "I… I had little choice in the matter."

She nodded, "All right then," she said, "We'll get what we came for, and then we'll let you go along your way."

They found the Collector, a gaunt, balding, man in his study.

"Ninsy!" Vania cried, "Help! They've taken me prisoner!"

"Let us into the vault or the bitch gets it," Shandra snarled, seeming to enjoy the play-acting.

"Please, Ninsy!" Vania begged.

"You're name is _Ninsy?_" Adahni said incredulously.

"Silence!" the Collector scowled, "I'm the Collector to you."

"Whatever, Ninsy," Sand said superciliously, "I suggest you let us into the vault."

"I'm sorry, Vania," the Collector said after a short silence, "I assure you, I will give you the grandest funeral Neverwinter has ever seen – hundreds of mourners!"

"You… you _what?"_

"My collection is my life," he said, looking at her desperately, "I couldn't bear to see it… ravished by these strangers!"

"Ah, love," Adahni sighed.

Vania turned on her heel, her red dress flaring around her. Her pale cheeks had gone pink with anger, and her blue eyes blazed wildly, "The key isn't the only lock to the vault," she said, "He always goes to the bookshelf first, and then the fireplace when he goes into it. I don't know the puzzle, but I'm sure you can figure it out. If he won't give you the key, you can kill him and I will swear on my life that it was in self-defense."

"Vania…"

"Do not _speak _my name!" she yelled, turning back to her husband, "You are _nothing _to me! Your days as my master are over!"

Adahni, meanwhile, was fishing through her bag. She found a purse she had lifted from the bodies of one of the guards. She held it out.

"Here," she said, handing it to her, "Take this. Make a fresh start." She drew closer to the other woman's ear. "The Sunken Flagon," she whispered, "He's waiting for you at the Sunken Flagon at the Docks. Tell anyone who bothers you that Adahni Farishta sent you, and they will leave you alone."

Vania threw her arms around her neck in a surprising gesture that nearly bowled Adahni over and swept her up in a cloud of expensive perfume. She then turned and ran down the stairs, coins jingling.

"All right, Ninsy," Adahni said, "About that key…"

He put up quite a fight considering he was such an old man. She didn't really want to kill him, well she supposed he did for being such a lecherous old rat, but after being thrown around for nearly fifteen minutes he showed no signs of breaking, even when Khelgar held him down and burped right in his face. He also seemed to have realized that Adahni had no intention of actually cutting his throat – she had reasoned that with her current reputation in the city, most acts of violence might not be the way to go. Finally, she found herself resorting to acts of vandalism.

"How do I open the vault?" she asked, smashing a vase against the floor. Ninsy flinched, but said nothing. She smashed another vase, stuck a necklace in her pocket, and ripped a painting off the wall, threatening the canvas with her rapier.

"Wait!" Ninsy cried, "Stop! Leave the painting out of this, it's done nothing to you!"

"Neither did Vania and you seemed happy enough to let her die," Adahni said, her blade creeping closer to the painting.

"Stop!" he cried again, fishing in his pocket. He produced a little silver key and handed it to her, his fingers trembling. She seized it from his hand.

"OK, now tell us how to get into the vault," she commanded.

"There… there are three locks. This key opens one, there's a key in the fireplace the opens the other, and then there's a combination… it's in a book on the shelf to the left." He pointed with one long finger at two ornate bookshelves that lined the wall of the hallway.

"There's something you ain't telling us," Khelgar growled.

"No!" he squeaked, "I may have… made a mistake. It's the book to the right, to the right!"

Adahni threw the painting at his feet, "Have your pretty painting, and have fun dying alone."

Sand picked up the book from the shelf, "The Book of Numerological Nursery Rhymes," he mused, "Here, listen to this.

"_Nine are we when taken all three.__  
__Last one slain, then six remain.__  
__None survive our first less five."_

"Aren't you supposed to be the clever one?" Neeshka asked, looking from Adahni to Sand and back again.

"It's a puzzle," Adahni declared.

"Well I gathered that," Sand sighed, "Let's take a look at the vault door."

The five of them gathered around the vault door. There were two keyholes and a combination lock where three numbers could click into place and then be entered with the pull of a tiny lever. Adahni inserted the two keys and turned them, leaving the combination.

"There we go," Sand said, "See, there are three numbers on the combination, so that means all when they are taken all three, they add up to nine!"

"That's a lot of combinations," Adahni said.

"Last one slain, then six remain," Sand said, staring pensively at the book.

"Last one's three," she said, "Nine, slay six."

"Good. Now, none survive our first less five."

"So the first one must be five!" Neeshka declared.

"Leaving a one in the middle," Shandra said.

Sand turned the wheels, clicking the three numbers into place. Then he pulled the lever with a flick of the wrist, and the door creaked open. Inside was not the collection of curios she imagined. While there was some artwork, some pottery, possibly from Illefarn or Netherese archaeological digs, what there was most of was gold… piles upon piles of gold coins tossed haphazardly into the corners of the room. Neeshka jumped in the air with a squeal and went to shovel it all into her backpack, when a voice sounded from behind them.

"So you beat me to it, Neeshka," a gravelly voice came from behind them. Leldon approached slowly, "Too bad you won't live to claim the credit for – "

Sand's missile smacked him right in the face, knocking the thief right on his back. Neeshka walked up to him, spat in his face. "Too bad you won't get any last words," she said, "You were always so full of talk."

She sank her dagger into his heart and twisted it. He gurgled twice, and then went limp, his blood staining the fine woodworking of the collector's floors.

* * *

Vania had made it back to the inn and had, evidently, been introduced around. She embraced Adahni when she arrived as though the two were old friends. Adahni smiled graciously, but felt icy on the inside. She dumped a sack of gold out on the table and instructed Khelgar to divvy it up evenly. She went back to her room, sat on the ground with her back against the door. She rolled up a smoke in an expended scroll, lit it, and puffed on it. The tobacco calmed her a bit, but did nothing to the ache in her heart.

She was thrown forward by someone opening the door. She rolled and managed to right herself, stick her smoke back into her mouth and took a drag. When the ranger walked in, she was ready to exhale a blast of smoke right into his face.

"What did I tell you about ladies' rooms, Bishop?" she asked.

"What did I tell you about referring to yourself as a lady?" he said, "Did you meet the blond bitch?"

"Unfortunately."

"Is she the lucky lady that gets to be Mrs. Sanctimonious Prick?"

Adahni snickered and nodded.

"Ahhh, no wonder you drank yourself into a stupor last night," he said, nodding knowingly, "And made a mess of my boots."

"Oh yes!" she said, suddenly reminded of something. She went into her pack and drew out another pair of boots, superior to the ones she had vomited on, glowing with a kind of enchantment. She handed them to him,"Wear them well. They once belonged to the second best thief in Neverwinter."


	48. Two Promises

Why anyone would choose to get married after courting for only about a month, or under the heavy gray sky of late winter, Adahni really had no idea. Vania had abruptly become an unofficial part of the group, bunking in with Casavir by night and trying desperately to endear herself to the group by day. Neeshka dealt with her, only because it was through her help that she had been able to conquer the Collector's house. Shandra, whom Adahni imagined felt similar to herself, oafish and manly next to this slender, pale flower of a woman, was ever cordial. Elanee kept her distance, ever since seeing, to her consternation, the fur stole that Vania wore which was little more than a badger carcass cured and draped over her neck.

What bothered Adahni about Vania was, more so than her wearing Cas's ring on her finger, that she seemed to be simultaneously trying very hard to win over the group and completely disdainful of the lot of them. She would try to interest the women in embroidery, a task which all but Adahni found tiresome (and Adahni only liked it because she could decorate her companions' clothing with rude pictures and sayings), but was always too tired to learn how to fight, or do magic, or evne to sing. She was clearly only accustomed to ladies' tasks. She had always had servants to sweep the floor and do the dishes, and so when Duncan asked her politely to lend a hand and earn her keep, she was offended.

"It's an inn," she sighed, "With all the other discomforts I'm expected to put up with, can't they at least perform these simple tasks?"

"If you were a paying customer, I'm sure there'd be no problems," Khelgar rebuked her gruffly.

Still, she seemed to have genuine affection for the paladin, and Adahni could find no fault in her treatment of him. Not to mention that it was not a bad thing to have a distraction, something that was going to happen between then and her trial, which was scheduled for the equinox. The wedding was slated - as much as it could be slated - for the week beforehand, giving the couple a week to go away and have Cas back to testify on her behalf. That left a little more than a month for planning. Vania had no family left in the city; the first person she'd spoken to besides her husband and the servants in nigh on ten years was the official in the Temple of Tyr who granted her her divorce. Cas, ever mysterious on his roots, had no family he was willing to speak about, in any case. Aside for a few of his old friends from the knighthood - Grayson and Nevalle among them, everyone he knew was back in Old Owl Well. And so, on a morning in the late winter when the air smelled of Spring and the river swelled with melting snow, Adahni set out to fulfill two promises.

* * *

She rented two horses, a graceful mare for herself and a stout and shaggy pony that would carry Khelgar with ease. Mounted thusly, the two of them set out for the mountains to the northeast. The snow was mostly melted, and all but the dryest of moors were inundated. Still, they made it to the little settlement at Old Owl Well in a little over a day. The town had grown in the months since they'd left, the fields lying like patchwork quilts behind the little shanties, the well for which the town was named had a cover over it and several pumps set into the ground around it.

The first promise was easy, to hand wedding invitations to a handful of men and women who had served under him. She didn't recognize most of them, but they greeted her kindly and thanked her for the invitation. She had a list that Vania had written out in her graceful, practiced handwriting, and crossed the names off as she went. By the time the sun was halfway between the top and bottom of the sky, there remained only two.

Catriona seemed to have lain down her own arms in favor of forging them for others. They found her laboring in an open forge. Around her hung the fruits of her labor, finely crafted swords, daggers, and scythes glinting in the firelight. When Adahni and Khelgar approached, she lay down her hammer and took off the gnomish-looking goggles that she was wearing over her eyes. She was even paler than she had been in autumn, her cheeks flushed pink with the heat of the forge, "So who's the lucky woman?" she asked, scanning the parchment, "Who is this Vania?"

"Some fine noble lady of Neverwinter," Adahni chuckled. She felt more sympathy for Catriona now than she had in the past, "I'm afraid we soldier girls get whatever's left over once the simpering mincing creatures have their pick."

Catriona's laugh was a single, awkward note, "Well, I'll see you at the wedding, then. Is there a place to stay?"

"My uncle's inn," she replied, "The Sunken Flagon, you'll find it on the Neverwinter docks."

"It has been years since I've been to Neverwinter," Catriona replied, absently twirling a strand of cornsilk-colored hair around one calloused finger.

"Well, it's in a bit under a month, you can come along whenever it pleases you," she said.

"Thanks, Addie," she said, "I'll be there."

When she asked after the last person on the list, one of the old women at the well pointed her in the direction of the outskirts of town. She and Khelgar re-mounted and trotted out through the fields to a glorified hut in the very middle of a very wet cornfield. Khelgar stayed on his pony as Adahni gathered her last nerve to knock on the door. She glanced at herself in a puddle, took off her kerchief and fingercombed her hair out, shaking it out.

The woman who answered the door was sturdy and blond, probably in her late twenties, with a baby on one hip and a basket of laundry on the other. She said a brief hello as she breezed out of the door to hang the wash out on a line.

"So what is it you're here about?" she asked. She pinned up a couple of sheets, somehow doing it all with one hand.

"I've got a wedding invitation... for your husband," she said.

"Jem? Well let me know if you find him, he's been gone since dawn. Rambling around these hills, doubt he'll ever tire of it," she said. She bent backwards to pick up another sheet.

"Do you need help there... Talia it is, right?" asked Adahni. She felt almost guilty, here with the wife she'd helped a man be unfaithful to, watching her manage the baby and the laundry and the running of the whole house while Jem wandered the hills doing nothing.

"That's right," she said, turning to look at Adahni pointedly, "How'd you know?"

"I know him... your husband. We served together briefly. He talked about you."

"All that nonsense with the orcs?" she said, "I thank you if you helped drive them out. Can you hold him?" she asked, holding the kid out at arms length. His chubby legs dangled between them for a moment before Adahni reached out reluctantly to take him from her. Adahni looked at him for the first time, holding him in front of her. There was no doubt about it, the kid's father must have been a lot darker than the pale, freckled Jem, given Talia's peaches-and-cream complexion and tawny hair. He blew a spit bubble and babbled a little, before reaching out his arms to put them around her neck and pop his head over her shoulder to look at the dwarf, still mounted on his pony out in the field.

"What's his name?" she asked.

"Little Jem, or Jemmy, depending on the day," Talia replied. She was making short work of the laundry now. She glanced up at the hills that loomed above the farm, "Oh, look there, there's Jem now, you can go give him the invitation yourself."

She followed her gaze and saw a figure coming down out the narrow, rocky path leading up to the mountains. She started up it, bouncing the baby in her arms. Once he saw her, he grinned and waved and jogged down the rest of the way. They met at the foot of the hill, out of earshot of the little farm.

"What're you doing here, Addie?" he asked her, but he couldn't seem to keep the smile of his face.

"Delivering an important document," she said. She shifted the baby to her hip and reached into her pocket. She handed him the invitation and let him read it.

"Married!" Jem exclaimed, "What've you done to the man, Addie?"

"I haven't done anything," Adahni replied, "It's some fine lady of Neverwinter."

"Pity," Jem said, "So, what, are you his personal errand girl now, riding all the way out here just to hand me a wedding invitation?"

"I volunteered," she said, smirking, "I'm not going to lie, I was secretly hoping your wife might not be home... the baby can't talk yet, right? He ain't going to be repeating any of this?"

"He can say 'mama,' 'dada,' and 'fuck you,'" Jem said, "I coached him on the last one, of course, drives his mother insane. He's a clever one, though, takes after his dad... whoever that was. Here, let me take him, he's getting fat." He reached over and took the baby from her, and as he leaned in to do so he kissed her quickly on the cheek, "Didn't think I'd see you again, love."

She felt her cheeks grow hot and her stomach flutter.

"Come on then, back to the old homestead."

"Will you come to the wedding?" she asked, following him down the path.

"Wouldn't miss it," he replied, "I can ask the wife if she wants to go see her sister... and her brother-in-law. Take the kid to see his real father."

"You're being bitter, Jem," she said.

"You caught me," he said.

"If you're going to leave you'd best to do it before this one is old enough to remember you," she said.

"I know, don't you think I know that?" he asked, sighing. He hefted the child in his arms, "I'm not going to lie, I'm a little attached."

"You ain't his dad," Adahni said. The baby was pushing off of Jem's chest to get a better look at her, "He's a charmer though. Blew a spit bubble on me like right gentleman." She chuckled and waved her pinky at the child. He grabbed it in one hand and babbled some, and then let loose a laugh so sweet and pure it could have melted the heart of Priest of Cyric. She thought of her own short-lived pregnancy. _He'd be six by now, old enough to read and write, to learn to play the harp. _She imagined what he might look like, brown like her but with Dayven's green eyes. _And what if he wound up to be like Dayven in other ways? _The young boy turned into a cruel young man, with a missing tooth and a rapier in his hand...

"You've gone away from me," Jem observed.

"I've an old wound that pains me sometimes," she said, "I'm sorry."

They had arrived back at the house. Talia ran up to them, took the child from Jem, and kissed her husband hard on the mouth. Adahni averted her eyes, thinking that perhaps she was putting on a bit too much of a show in front of her, and kept her mouth shut. Khelgar had come down from his horse and was holding a handful of clothespins, presumably for easy access for Talia. Adahni muffled a giggle.

"My old captain's getting hitched," Jem said, putting his arms around his wife, "Invited me to go to Neverwinter at the end of the season."

"That bump on a log?" Talia laughed, "A wonder he's found any woman to put up with him."

"He's not so bad," Adahni sighed.

"I could have sworn he was sweet on Addie here," Jem said, "Way he looked at her."

"Hm!" Talia sniffed. She looked Adahni up and down, as though she had registered for the first time that there was a woman under the armor, "Well, I suppose it's a good reason to go to Neverwinter. You've never been before, have you. And I can take the baby to see my sister."

Jem and Adahni's eyes met briefly and she winked at him imperceptibly, or tried to do so. "Well I suppose I'll see you at the end of the month, then," she said, "Good luck with the planting season."

She and Khelgar made their way across the muddy field to their horses, mounted up, and trotted off back to the village center. They arrived there when the sun was nearly down over the mountains, casting the little place into shadow.

"So what do we do?" asked Adahni, "I told you I'd wander these hills with you looking for your lost love, but I was secretly hoping you might have an idea of where to find her."

"The Hammerforge Clanhold is south and east of here if you follow the foothills of the mountains," Khelgar said.

"And what are the chances of us getting the shit kicked out of us once we get there?"

"I'd put the odds at five or six to one," Khelgar said, "If they see me, that is. Now, if you go up..."

"So I'm supposed to walk right up the the door, rap on it, and asked if Helvynn can come out the play?" Adahni said. They had made their way out of the village by now and were riding a straight line along the foot of the mountains, "They might not beat me up, but I'm pretty sure they won't be ecstatic to see me."

"Do you have any better ideas?" Khelgar asked.

"No, no, I don't suppose I do," she said, sighing.

It was oddly like old times, travelling with just Khelgar. After two days, Casavir had retreated to the back of her mind, the pain at seeing him with another woman had dwindled to a twinge. He would never wed with her, because he saw her as the same sort of creature as he was. He saw her as he'd seen Vania's first lover, his squire Ayron. If he did want to marry her, it would mean that she had changed in some fundamental way, and these days of adventuring would be over. She would have to give up a necessary part of herself in order to become the sort of woman Casavir liked. It was during the week that she and the dwarf made their way along the Sword Hills, that she let the paladin go.

On the third day, Khelgar pointed to a door set high on a cliff above the path on which they road. "That'll be the Hammerforge Clanhold right there," he said, pointing.

"You want me to climb up there?" Adahni asked.

"There ought to be a path, but it'll be hidden."

She suddenly wished Bishop were there. For all his sarcastic wit and glaring disdain for anything resembling propriety, he'd been kind to her these past days. And he'd make short work of this tracking business.

It took her nearly an hour to get up there, after scaling the cliffs in lieu of wasting her time trying to find a path. When she reached the top, though, it was clear that something was wrong. The door, which had looked sound from the bottom of the cliff, was hanging loosely on its hinges. She nudged it, and it swung wide open on to an underground tomb. She stifled a scream, seeing the withered corpses of the Hammerforge clan littering the floor. The dry air of the hills had preserved, their skin and some of their flesh, giving her no idea how long they had lain dead under the mountain. She picked her way among them, looking for any sign of how they had died. Most had died with their axes in hand, their mouths open in silent screams. At first, she didn't know why her legs kept her moving through the underground hall, until she came across a corpse, as well-preserved at the others. This one's face was contorted in a howl of rage. She had died with a double-headed axe clutched in both lifeless hands and a horned helmet on her head. From under the helmet flowed two long, blond braids, still shining though their owner had long since passed.

Adahni bowed her head for the woman she had never known. She whispered a brief prayer, to Clangeddin, and asked the corpse's permission before she took a the small knife she kept in her belt and sliced off a lock of the blond hair. This she put gently in her pocket and left the dead to rest peacefully.

She was startled by a noise deep in the mountain as she made her way back to the ruined door.

"Who is that?" she asked, "Is someone alive in there?" Her voice echoed mockingly back at her.

The noise grew louder. She instinctively reached for her blade, but not before six feet of hair, muscle, and claws had fallen upon her, knocking her to the ground. In the moment before she fell, the glaring face she had just seen matched itself with a drawing in a book that Daeghun had given her. _Bugbear._ She scrabbled at her assailant, forcing its head up and back, rolling out from underneath it, and running faster than she ever had. She tripped over one of the corpses, but kept running. From the sounds behind her there was a whole herd of them pursuing her out of the cave. She burst into the bright sunlight, hollering Khelgar's name at the top of her lungs.

"What is it, lass?" he asked, peering up at her.

"Bugbears!" she called. She looked behind her, counting five of them running out of the cave. The cliff in front of her was a good thirty feet down, and she had a scant five feet of space. If she weren't there, she probably could have fended off five of them until Khelgar made his way up to help her, but here she wouldn't have the room to move... it was either jump and land on her feet, perhaps breaking a leg, or be thrown off and land... what? On her head? Her back? With one backwards glance, she took a running leap, tucking her legs and head against her chest. She landed and rolled, somersaulting through the grass until she came to a stop.

She picked herself up. Her hands hurt from breaking her fall, but neither wrist seemed to be broken. She looked back up at the cliff, where the bugbears seemed to have found a gentler way down. Without a second glance, she leapt into her saddle and kicked her mount into action. Khelgar, who was still not entirely sure what was going on, did the same, and they galloped away for a good half hour before their horses tired.

"So what, precisely, happened?" Khelgar asked.

"They're all dead, Khelgar," she said, "The Hammerforge Clanhold is little more than a tomb. I imagine the bugbears did it."

"All of them?" Khelgar asked.

"Well I don't know that," Adahni said, "But there were more corpses in that mountain than we found in Ember. It was a slaughter."

Khelgar's face went white, "And my Helvynn?"

"I... I don't know that it was her," Adahni said, "She must have had sisters and cousins, right? Any of whom might have worn their hair in braids?"

"I suppose," Khelgar said, "But she was the most valiant of them. If there had been an attack, she would have been on the front lines." He bowed his head. Adahni rooted in her pocket and took the lock of hair she had lifted. She handed it to him.

"Thanks, lass. I suppose I didn't lose anything I hadn't lost already."

"Look, I don't know for sure that it was her," Adahni said, "For all we know she's alive and wandering the Sword Coast looking for you."

Khelgar nodded, "For all we know." Then, as if hit by a crack of lightning, he sat bolt upright in his saddle, "If the bugbears came here, then..."

"Then what!"

"My Clanhold is but a day's ride from here!" he exclaimed, "We've got to warn them!" He gave his pony a kick in the ribs, spurring him on down the path. Adahni did the same, leaning low over the mare's neck.

As the sun went down that night, they approached the very southeastern end of the Sword Mountains, where Khelgar said stood the mighty hold of Ironfist. The night was still, not a sound of anyone or anything living in the hills. It was only with much persuasion and more whiskey that Khelgar was convinced that they could wait until daylight to deal with the problem. They slept without a tent that night, warmed by a wan fire. Khelgar slept the dead sleep of the drunk. Adahni, though, was kept awake by fear. She had not gone into battle without Shandra or Casavir by her side in a long while, and hoped that she wasn't about to do something extremely and irrevocably stupid.


	49. In the Halls of Ironfist

Adahni dreamed vividly that night, dreamed that she hung up her blade and armor for good and had a dark-haired, blue-eyed baby and did the laundry and pushed a plow and didn't sleep alone at night. When she saw her husband, though, the man she slept with was alternately Jem and Casavir. When she awoke in the mid-morning sun, there were tears on her face.

She looked around to see the sun high in the sky. They had spread their bedrolls on a long, flat rock above the muddy path, a rock which was pleasantly warm even in the late winter chill.

"Oh, you're up then, lass," Khelgar said, "I took the liberty of goin' up the hill on my own."

"Your family?" she asked, clambering to her feet and rolling up her bedroll.

"Oh, they're alive," Khelgar said, "And none too pleased to see me, seeing as they've been driven from the clanhall. They do seem to be interested in talking to you, though. Seems your reputation has preceded you."

"Which one, the valiant slayer of monsters, or the crazy bitch who slaughtered Ember?"

Khelgar shrugged, "Same to them, I'd imagine."

Adahni strapped her bedroll back on her pack and affixed it to her saddle. The horses had behaved themselves, not straying far as they cropped the new blades of grass that her poking their heads above the icy mud on the meadow below. She followed Khelgar up the gravelly path, which was flanked on either side by rivulets of snowmelt trickling down the mountain.

"You're a strange band to be travelling these hills," their leader said. He didn't look much like Khelgar. He wore his blond hair shaved up on the sides and pulled back into a braid. Some of his companions, though, bore an uncanny resemblance to him.

"What seems to be the problem?" she asked.

"That's clan business, not for outsiders," replied the dwarf.

"I am a part of the clan, Khulmar," Khelgar declared, "I _am _an Ironfist."

"Haven't been acting like one. First, taking up with a Hammerforge lass, then leaving our clan when you were most needed in search of a senseless fight!"

"The Hammerforge lass lies dead beneath her clan hall," Khelgar said, bowing his bald head, "You don't need to worry about the Hammerforges anymore. The bugbears got there first."

"Well they've come here too," Khulmar replied, "The hold is crawling with them."

"Then let me prove myself," Khelgar said, "We will liberate the clanhold."

Khulmar dismissed him with a wave of his hand, "Come back when you have performed deeds. All the fair words in the world have never done anyone a bit of good."

"So you're saying," Adahni said as they climbed further into the mountains, "The two of us are going to single-handedly clear your clan hold of those six foot hairy, ugly beasts that somehow that band of six Ironfist warriors couldn't do on their own? Those same beasts that had me jumping headlong off a cliff to avoid getting bugbeared to death just other day?"

"Precisely," Khelgar declared, "You and me, lass, we've been busting heads for half a year now! Surely we can take down some lousy bugbears!"

"Did you miss the part where I jumped off the cliff?" Adahni repeated.

"No, no, I saw that, but that's because you didn't have _me _by your side!" the dwarf said.

Adahni was growing increasingly uneasy with the way he was behaving. The poor fellow had just found out that, in all likelihood, the woman he had spent years pining over had been killed. Flinging himself headlong into a suicide mission made a lot of sense from his point of view, she imagined. She didn't exactly like the idea that he was going to take her along for his honorable last battle, but upon inspection, she was carrying a few healing potions and some enhancements that Sand had graciously brewed for her, and hoped that perhaps she would be able to come out of this one alive.

They met their first band of bugbears half an hour into the steep and rocky ascent to the Ironfist clan hall. Khelgar snatched his axe from where it hung on his back. Adahni drew her rapier. On three, both of them sprinted up the hill, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Without the element of surprise, the bugbears went down like icicles before a roaring fire. So, too, did the two other scouting parties that they found next, and the group guarding a gray-haired dwarf trapped in a makeshift pen of boards and twine.

"Khayar!" Khelgar exclaimed, "Are you all right?"

The dwarf got up and spat on the ground, "Khelgar! Good to see you, did the others get away?"

"Khulmar and his band, you mean?"

"Yes, are they all right?"

"Yeah, they're down in the canyon. Can you make it down there on your own?"

"Me?" Khayar said, standing and stretching, "Not a scratch on me! I only allowed myself to be captured so the rest of them would be safe."

"How many of them are there?" asked Adahni.

"A few," Khayar said, "I was the one saying we should just go ahead and slaughter the lot of them. Others were scared, said they didn't know how many."

"What are we waiting for?"

"I'm not going to answer that," Adahni said, "If I had my way, we'd be waiting for the both of us to have families and be close to dying of old age before we plunged into certain doom, but if I said that you'd be calling me a wimp from now until midsummer, so let's go ahead!"

"When valor fails, social pressure is a wonderful motivator," Khelgar declared, "All right, Khayar, I'll be back by sundown, or you can look for my desiccated corpse in Ironfist hall, assured that I died with honor!"

He took off up the hill. Adahni shrugged at Khayar and followed.

They met three more bands of bugbears before they reached the hole in the rock that passed for a door to the hold. Adahni was a little unnerved at how easily the fiends fell before their blades, but then she saw the look of pure determination on Khelgar's face and knew that failure, for him, was simply not an option.

By sundown, the hall was clear, and Khelgar wore on his hands the Gauntlets of Ironfist. A small comfort for the loss of his love, Adahni imagined. She did not bring the subject up again, though, and instead let him lead the way as they road west into the sunset.

* * *

By the time they returned to Neverwinter, spring had returned in spirit if not in name. Adahni returned to her harp, Khelgar to his ale. He seemed wearier, more broken down than before, but he managed to keep up the appearance of jovial humor when called upon to do so. At his request, she said nothing about their discovery at Hammerforge Clahhold to Neeshka, the only other who had been clued in to Helvynn's existence. Neeshka, as Adahni remembered, had been oddly sympathetic towards the pair.

"I wouldn't want," Khelgar said between drags of ale. The two were seated by the fire at the Sunken Flagon after most of the drunks had gone to sleep, "I just wouldn't want to spoil it for her."

"Spoil it for _her_?" Adahni asked incredulously.

"She's like a child, Addie, she needs to believe that some things can work out for the best in the end," Khelgar said, "I'd want her to go to her grave still believing that, seeing as that's where we're all headed anyway."

"Well you seem a bit more well-disposed towards her, at least," Adahni commented, "I don't think I've heard you say such a kind thing to anyone."

"Devil-spawn or not, we all deserve to believe in something. The paladin believes in Tyr, Elanee believes in nature, Shandra believes in justice, Neeshka believes in love..."

"Well I'm glad you've got us all figured out, then," she said, sighing, "What about Qara?"

"Power, she believes in power."

"And Gnomehands?"

"The Wendersnaven, he believes very, very strongly in the Wendersnaven."

"What in the hells are the Wendersnaven?" she asked.

"Nobody knows, but he sure believes in 'em," Khelgar said, chuckling bitterly.

"All right then," Adahni said, "What do you believe in?"

"Right now?" Khelgar said, "Right now I believe in my family, the Ironfists, and I believe in friendship."

"Hm! We should take you back to the Temple of Tyr right now, have them shave you bald - well I suppose that's already been done - and hand you a robe," Adahni said, "So what about me, what do I believe in?"

"You believe in friendship, I do believe. You ran headlong into that infested cave right along with me, even though you knew that you could have died in there," Khelgar said, "And I thank you for it."

"It's nothing," Adahni said, "You've done me a service, following me all this way. You've been with me longer than any. If anyone deserves my blade at their side, it's you. You're also a lot more perceptive than I've given you credit for, Ironfist."

"Nobody knows this," Khelgar said, "But I'm pushing two hundred. If you live that long, I think you'll learn to see people in a much different light."

"I don't plan on doing any such thing," Adahni said, "So what about Bishop? He goes on and on and on about how it's stupid to believe in a god, and how ridiculous we all are.... so if you think we all believe in something, then what does he believe in?"

"He's an odd one," Khelgar said, "Haven't spent much time with him. Haven't really wanted to. But given all of the things he professes in comparison to all the things he does, I'd have to say that he definitely believes in you."

"Well there's a small comfort," Adahni sighed, "I spend half my time worried he's going to put an arrow through my eye and the second half worried he'll put one through my back."

"If I were you," Khelgar said, "I would spend less time worrying about him, and more time worried about the trial. You've only got twenty or so days."

"Twenty days, huh?" she said, "That means fourteen until the wedding."

Khelgar snorted, "I'm secretly hoping the paladin comes to his senses before throwing his life away on that peacock of a girl. We're going to need him, more than she does."

"He doesn't owe me anything," Adahni reminded him, "He, like you, is here of his own free will and , like you, is free to leave when he so chooses."

"He's a good man. Deserves better than her," Khelgar said, "I could've had any pretty dwarven lass in the region if I'd wanted... I chose a girl of substance! Character! Who didn't stand on chairs at the sight of a mouse, a girl who could take on an entire army and call out for more blood! And now she's dead..." He took a long sip of ale, and pounded his empty mug down on the table, "Perhaps I should've stuck with the proper ladies, that knew how to draw their corsets tight and keep their mouths shut.... would spare me this pain..."

Adahni tried to put her arm around his shoulders, but he shrugged her off, "Leave me to this, Addie, I need to be alone."

Adahni patted his shoulder once and obeyed him, going back to her customary stool to sing a final song for the night.

_I'll wander east and I'll wander west_

_Wherever fair winds take me_

_But forever I will sleep alone_

_For no more I'll see my lady_

_Oh its many the time I have walked behind_

_And never was I weary_

_But now is the time I must walk alone_

_For no more I'll see my deary_


	50. The Event of the Season

Adahni was happy not to be bothered with all the normal women things in the month leading up to the wedding, though it proved a good distraction from her trial, which Sand was furiously preparing for day and night. The loot from the Collector's mansion - after her companions with the shabbiest equipment had been given new sets - bought a few yards of fabric, and ribbons, which Adahni had no idea what to do with. Luckily for Vania, she had reconnected with two maids she had once employed, and in the spirit of friendship they agreed to help her sew a passable wedding dress. They worked in the common room of the inn, meaning Adahni, Neeshka, and Shandra had to pass them every time they came in from the outside. Shandra had found some work at the Watch and while Adahni's status as a suspect in a mass murder had given Cormick some pause, he paid her to do paperwork, leaving him and Brelaina free to argue.

Neeshka, too, to Adahni's surprise, joined her in her busy work at the watch. The girl was literate - barely so - and Adahni liked to think that she would follow her there simply for the lesson in reading and writing it gave her. The money was less than when she was on the beat, but it kept them in ale, for themselves, and for Khelgar, who had taken on the troubling pattern of drinking himself to sleep twice a day. He hadn't started a fight in days, and Neeshka was beginning to get worried.

"What's _with _him?" she said one day as the two of them were painstakingly copying wanted posters by hand, "He hasn't called me goatgirl in weeks!"

"He's just depressed. It's the long winter, gets to all of us," Adahni sighed, "He'll be all right once the sun decides to show its face again."

"He's a dwarf," Neeshka pointed out, "If he had his way, he'd be living underground... no sun there."

Adahni rolled her eyes, "Look, I'm not allowed to tell you about it, but I assure you, there is a very good reason why he's acting the way he is. Maybe sometime he'll feel like telling you himself, but I gave him my word, and I intend to keep it."

"You people and your 'words,'" Neeshka sighed, rolling her eyes, "I don't get it. Why, just last night this young man came by the bar and challenged Casavir to a duel, said he'd made some promise about it..."

"What?" Adahni asked, sitting bolt upright, "Challenged him to a _what?_"

"A duel, you know, two people, usually men, swords, honor, all that bullshit?"

"I know what a duel is," she said, "Do you know who that man was?"

"I imagine it's probably the son of his betrothed's brother that he slew. Right age - maybe nineteen, twenty, and he looks like her," Neeshka said, shrugging, "Now that his aunty is out from her bondage to that noble, all sorts of bad feelings in that family are probably coming to the fore."

"You know what's going to happen if we let them duel," Adahni said, "Casavir is going to withdraw to a cloister for another ten years and then find some other inane cause to take up and none of us will see him again until we're all gray-haired and doddering."

"Well, under most circumstances, I would be all right with that," Neeshka replied, "But you know I've always had a soft spot in my heart for the star-crossed. So, do you have a brilliant plan yet?"

"Is he handsome?" asked Adahni.

"I only saw him for a minute, but yeah, he was good-looking," Neeshka said.

"Then yes, I have a brilliant plan."

"Really, Addie?"

"No," Adahni said, "I'm joking. But I don't think it would kill us to go and have a ..... word.... with him, would it. We'll bring Shandra, she's gotten big and muscular. I think the threat of having his ass handed to him by three girls might strike the fear of the gods into him. At least until after the wedding and the trial. And if things work out the way Claven wants them to, I won't even be around for it to be my problem."

"Now you're just being morbid," Neeshka said, dotting the final 'i' on her wanted poster, "There. I'm done for the day, my fingers feel like they're going to fall off."

"Fine," Adahni said, hurriedly finishing up the last sentence (it ended in 'dead or alive') and put it on the pile. Neeshka gathered the pile up and took them over to Cormick, who accepted them with a smile. Adahni saw over his shoulder that sitting on his desk was a report on the burglary at the Collector's mansion. He'd listed the amount of gold missing at twice what there actually was, and had written down items that hadn't even been in the vault. And, to her chagrin, she saw at the bottom that he had listed, "Wife, approximately 32 years of age, blond hair."

"We tried to explain to him that it doesn't work that way," Cormick said, seeing her looking at it, "But he was old-fashioned, convinced that whoever took her ought to buy him a new one."

Adahni snorted in disgust, "You aren't actually taking this report seriously, are you?"

"No," Cormick said, "We spoke with Judge Oleff. The divorce is official and we imagine that it was she who took everything. She's actually entitled to more, under the law, but we figure that we can let it go in exchange for not prosecuting her for the manner in which she took it. She's staying at the Sunken Flagon now, isn't she?"

"Yes," Adahni said, "Actually, the culprit who stole her is one of my companions. They're to be wed in two days."

"Yes, Neeshka told me," Cormick said, "She said there'll be quite a reception afterwards."

"Of course," Adahni said. She glanced at the tiefling, and to her surprise, the girl was blushing pink, "And you're welcome to come, of course, as is Brelaina, and any of the watchmen who might appreciate a party."

"Thanks!" Cormick said, "I'd be happy to wish them well."

The sun was nearly down by the time Adahni and Neeshka made it back to the inn. There was exactly enough soup at the bottom of the pot to cover two hunks of stale bread, and the meat floating in the broth was mostly gristle. "I hate the end of winter," Neeshka grimaced, "Everything starts running out."

"Not beer," Adahni said, taking a long sip from hers, "Liquid bread, my friend."

They clinked their mugs and drank down the thick dark brew. As they replaced their empty mugs on the table, the door banged open.

"Is this the Sunken Flagon?" a familiar voice asked. Adahni looked up to see Jem Quarely standing in the doorway. Her heart gave a bit of a leap at first, until she saw who was with him. Talia was there, her tawny hair bound back and wearing what Adahni imagined was her second best dress. Jem was holding the baby, who was soundly asleep. Behind them, Adahni saw another couple, a woman who was a dead ringer for Talia and a tall, exceedingly handsome man, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the child.

"It is! It is!" Duncan exclaimed, rushing over to them, "Are you here for the wedding, then? Lovely! I didn't know we'd have children here... I think there's a room with a crib upstairs, yes there is! I'll show you to it at once, Master..."

"Quarely."

"Yes, sir, are all you four together? Splendid, I'll set you two up in the room next door."

Adahni cowered into her soup as the five of them passed her.

"So much for that," Neeshka said, smirking slyly, "Don't think I didn't see that look on your face, Addie. The brother-in-law's quite something, though, can't blame her for it, really I can't. Maybe you should try and get him into bed, really stir things up!"

"You sound like Khelgar, always trying to start a fight!" Adahni exclaimed, "No, no, I'll be behaving myself, playing the part of the virtuous young maiden, if only for Cas's benefit. Hate to have his wedding tainted with scandal, eh?"

"I think it'd be good for him," Neeshka replied, "But it's entirely up to you. So who are you going to go with now?"

"What?" Adahni asked.

"Well naturally when you said that boy from Old Owl Well was coming that you'd accompanying him to the party afterwards, but if he's been all disagreeable and brought his wife, I imagine you ought to find another arm to hang off."

"An arm to hang off? I'm a squire of Neverwinter for crying out loud, not a debutante!" she sighed, "Why, do you have an escort?"

"Well yes," Neeshka said, looking directly into her soup, "It's really the social event of the season, where have you been for the last month?"

"I've been away with the dwarf, of course!"

"Ah, so you've missed the gossip, then. Vania seems to have a few friends in high places, add in the scandalous nature of the wedding itself, and everyone is just dying to get an invite - everyone! She even pulled some strings - they're hold the party in the Moonstone Mask afterwards."

"The Moonstone... I thought it was going to be here," Adahni said, "Why does nobody ever tell me anything? I thought Cas at least would have informed me."

"With all of it, it seems as though his old friends from the knighthood suddenly aren't embarrassed to be seen talking with him anymore, he's been traipsing off with them every chance he gets."

"Lovely," Adahni sighed, her stomach sinking. She had noticed that Cas had been gone more than he usually was, but she had thought he was spending time with his bride-to-be. Being his companion, his sister in arms, was the one thing that she had left, the one area where she could not be replaced... and now she had been.

* * *

The morning of the wedding dawned bright and dazzling, the air chilly but smelling of the promise of spring. Adahni had not spoken with Casavir in a full three days, as he had been off preparing for things and, evidently, did not need her anymore. Adahni washed herself and her hair. She braided it and clipped it like an ebony crown to the top of her head, like Kyla used to do. Then she did something she had not in years. At the bottom of a trunk in her room at the flagon was a box of paints that had once served her every night, highlighting her cheekbones, shadowing her eyes. She took them out and loosened the paints with a little water, and then went about her old routine, painting her eyes with thick, black lines and smudging light pink along her cheeks. In the mirror, she saw her old self, a beautiful, helpless creature, not unlike Vania...

She tugged a gown over her head that she had bought from a tailor in the merchant district, the one the provided clothes for the girls at the Mask. It wasn't as revealing as the ones that she used to wear, but it showed a bit of cleavage. The slippers that went with it were kidskin and very comfortable, and made her feet look tiny and delicate.

She heard the door open behind her while she was adjusting her hair, tweaking the little strands around her face to make a wispy curtain over her eyes. She whirled to see the ranger, actually dressed as a human being for once, wearing clothes that were not made of raw deerskin, but finely-woven wool breeches and boots that were not covered in patches that he himself had sewn on.

"Lady's room!" she called, turning back to the mirror.

He came up behind her, peering at himself in the looking glass around her, and for a moment, she was transported back to Luskan, where Kyla had done the same thing. Something about him that day made her look more like her than ever, and after staring for a few seconds, she realized that he had taken a razor to his chin and cheek. She shoved him out of the way, inadvertently sending him sprawling against the wall. He picked himself up and scowled.

"I was having a good morning," he said, snorting.

"Why? Are you even going?"

"Of course I'm going," Bishop said, "I wouldn't miss the social event of the season. Imagine what a step up in society this is for a poor boy from Barnslow!"

"You're being sarcastic," she said. She finished arranging her hair, and turned to him.

He opened his mouth to say something back to her, but just kept it open.

"What?" she said.

"Well don't you look like your old self," he finally said, his face going back to its customary contemptuous expression.

"I'm pretty," she declared petulantly, sticking her lower lip out, "So, are you happy the paladin's been out of your hair?"

"You're in a merrier mood than I expected," he said, "I would have thought you would be hiding in your wardrobe sobbing."

"And you came in to comfort the poor scorned woman?" she asked.

"I came in to force your chin up and to go to the temple not looking like a wreck," he said, "I see you're in rare form already, though. Come with me?"

"Hm?"

"Come with me," he said again, "I'm not walking in there alone and everyone else has already left."

She smiled and nodded. _He's the only one I have left, _she let him fasten her good cloak about her neck and take her by the shoulders. This close to him, he stood a head and a half taller than she did, and she had to push her hand up to thread her arm through his. She leaned against him, flirting a little, the paint on her face making her feel masked, disguised. She felt him tense... despite all his brash bravado he was still a boy not past his twentieth birthday.

Walking through the streets, she felt oddly self-conscious. At the post outside the Flagon, two of the watchmen whistled at her. _I haven't been whistled at in _ages.

* * *

She imagined the ceremony was very important to Casavir, but watching him from the very back of the temple was like seeing a painting in a museum. It looked like him, in a fine suit of clothes, but she felt as though he was distant, unapproachable, and that the real Casavir was off somewhere else and would join her later. She couldn't even hear the ceremony, apparently tradition held that they had to mumble the whole damn thing.

Within an hour, the two were married, and the whole temple stood up to applaud them as they left.

"Do you suppose they've screwed before?" Bishop wondered allowed as the bride, in her elegant white dress, passed them.

"They've been sharing that bed for a month now," Adahni replied, "My question is does she know that all those letters were written by me? Or that he was the one who killed her brother? Or, even, that it was him that ratted her out when she was with his squire?"

Bishop looked at her in shock, "And the claws come out! You really wrote her letters?"

"Yep," she said. She smiled and waved at Casavir as he passed, and he snapped her a salute, "The man has a tongue of lead."

"You know, I never noticed how pretty you are when you're being a bitch," he murmured. She granted him a giggle, "So he killed her brother?"

"Long time ago," she said, the smile still on her face, her hands still clapping together, "She used to have a thing for a friend of his, against her father's wishes. Cas played the foul interloper and told on them. Her brother killed the lover and Cas killed the brother... I don't see how this could fail to turn out entertainingly."

As if on cue, the door burst open and in strode a young man, sword at the ready. The sanctuary fell uncomfortably silent. "Casavir Andrion!" he bellowed, his voice cracking. He was even younger than Neeshka said he was, the lad couldn't have been older than sixteen. Adahni tensed, and looked over at Shandra, who was seated next to Duncan a pew or two up, and Neeshka, who was there with - Cormick!? Are you joking? I'll grill her about it later - on the other side of the aisle. The three of them moved slowly out of their seats.

"You killed my father and defiled my aunt!" the lad shouted. He was blond, like Vania, and had a very pale complexion which was slowly going pink. He brandished his sword, "I demand satisfaction!"

"I have no desire to spill the blood of my nephew on my wedding day," Casavir said, "As you can see, I am unarmed."

"Is that your excuse, you cowardly dog?! Stand and fight me like a man!"

Adahni sidled up to Casavir, who apparently seemed to think he could make the boy back down just by staring at him. "Let me handle this," she murmured in his ear, "Take your bride to the Mask."

Down the front of her corset, she had strapped a hunting knife that Bishop had given her some time back. Neeshka seemed had two daggers stashed up the voluminous sleeves of the dress she was wearing (a dress that looked suspiciously as though it had been sewn out of old watch cloaks, but suited her well) and Shandra... well, the way that Shandra's biceps were threatening the seams of her yellow gown was enough intimidation for her part. The three women converged on the lad.

"Listen, boy," Adahni said, "You're really going to want to let this one go."

"You know nothing of honor, woman!" the lad sneered.

Shandra drew herself up to her full height and glared down at the boy. In anger, her hazel eyes went nearly yellow.

"I know plenty of honor, boy," Adahni said, "I've been wielding a sword since you were four feet tall without a beard, and if you keep up like this, I'll be doing so after you're dead and in your grave and your mother has both a husband and a son to grieve over. Is that really what you want?"

"He killed my father," the lad said.

"Yes, he did," Adahni replied, "And your father killed his brother."

"What?"

"Your father killed his brother-in-arms," Adahni said, "Lad, do you really think your aunt would wed with a man who'd murdered her brother without just cause?"

"I've never met my aunt, she's been locked away in that mansion since I was seven."

"Well then, this is a good time to meet her. Put away your blade, boy, there's a time and place for revenge, and it's neither here nor now. I have to say though, I admire your nerve walking in here like that. How'd you like a job in a couple of years?"

"Not now," Shandra hissed, "People are staring."

"Fine," Adahni said, "Put your blade away and enjoy the party, or you're going to get your ass handed to you by three women who don't know the meaning of honor."

The boy's lower lip had started trembling, and he sheathed his sword, turned, and ran out of the temple.

"The boy deserves his revenge," Shandra said.

"He's a child," Adahni said, "Give him a few years to cool his heels. If, by then, he still feels the need to duel it out, he may be better equipped to do so."

"Or someone might do it for him," Bishop commented, sidling up to the group.

"Was that a threat?" she asked, turning to him.

"Just a suggestion of a possible eventuality," Bishop said, "But now's not the time for speculation, I imagine there is a boatload of free booze at the Mask, and between Addie and myself, I think we can put a dent in it!"


	51. Lovers

The Mask was festooned with ribbons and streamers and lit by brightly-colored paper lanterns. Adahni was glad that her heist at the Collector's was going to a good party at least, but suddenly wished that she had spared some expense and gotten herself some warm leggings, for the walk between the temple at the Moonstone Mask had sent the chills up her legs. Plates of smoked meats and root vegetables - probably the last of Ophala's winter stores, were set out for the guests - and Grobnar seemed to have found a band that was playing in one corner. He had, thankfully, left his bagpipes at home and was sticking to the squeezebox. Adahni felt all sorts of awkward - she had not been to a party where drinking to excess and puking was frowned upon in ages. And so she did what she always did when she felt awkward; she drank to excess and proceeded to make the rounds, socializing as she saw fit.

She congratulated the newlyweds numbly. Vania looked positively radiant, her cheeks pink with the excitement and her eyes sparkling. She had never seen Casavir smile so much, or so broadly, in all the months that she had known them. They both hugged her tightly, Casavir kissing her on the forehead and assuring her that he would return for the trial, and thanking her for all she had done for him. She nodded graciously and excused herself as soon as possible.

She then stationed herself, along with Cormick, Neeshka, and Shandra near the wine barrel. The three of them seemed to be playing a drinking game that involved each of them standing in as awkward a silence as possible for as long as possible, and then finishing their glass in a big hurry. As far as she could tell, Elanee and Khelgar had elected not to attend, and Qara had been made to work that night. And so, she stood with her remaining companions and got steadily drunk.

Near sunset, she was approached by a familiar face. Neeshka and Cormick dispersed when he arrived, and Shandra went over to converse with Duncan, leaving Adahni conspicuously alone by the barrel.

"A little overfond of the wine, are you?" Jem asked. He was a little unsteady on his feet, and his nose and cheeks had the tell-tale ruddy color that accompanied drinking.

"A little," she said, "What are you doing here so deep into your cups, don't you have a child to care for?"

"Left at the inn in the care of that dwarf you were travelling with," he said, "Said he'd be happy to look after him, give him something to do while he was sober."

"Khelgar? You left him with Khelgar?"

"That's the one," Jem said.

"You do realize the kid is going to learn how to swear like a sailor and burp on command, right?'

"Talia seemed happy enough to get out without him. She's been having a ball in the city." Adahni followed his gaze to where Talia was dancing with her brother-in-law. Her sister was hanging back next to a keg. She seemed exactly as embarassed about his behavior as Jem was about his wife's, but seemed equally resigned to the facts of life. That is, until a certain freshly-shaven young ranger approached her and asked her for a dance. Adahni stifled a giggle, and caught Bishops eye as he twirled the woman around. "You owe me," he mouthed at her over Talia's sister's shoulder.

"So how are you liking Neverwinter?" she asked, turning her attention back to Jem.

"I've never seen so many people all crowded into one place before. Biggest town I've ever been in is Highcliff, and that's not much compared to here. So many things to see," he replied, "Who was that man you were with at the temple? The one who's dancing with Lissia?"

"Jealous?"

"Do I look like the jealous type?" he asked, his gaze falling back on his wife.

"Well, no."

"I asked because he looks oddly familiar," he said, "I could swear I've seen him before."

"Well you have, I'd imagine. He was born in Barnslow, after all."

"Really, I don't recognize him..."

"He left when he was a child. With his... erm... sister."

A look of shock and then sadness passed over Jem's face, "So that's what became of the poor little bastard."

"I wouldn't feel too sorry for him," Adahni said, "Turned into a big bastard, he did. He's good egg, though, he's loyal and knows his way around a bow."

"And a woman ten years his senior, too," Jem commented, noting that Bishop's hand had wandered to the small of his sister-in-law's back.

Adahni gave a low, wine-soaked giggle, "He does have a fondness for the ladies."

"You aren't..."

"Gods no!" she exclaimed, "I'm too old for him."

"So's she," Jem commented.

The two of them were silent for a moment. Adahni looked about the room, her eyes finally settling on the groom, who was listening to two knights tell what seemed to be a hilarious story. She tried to catch his eyes, but he didn't even see her looking. _He isn't yours anymore... not that he ever was. You've served your purpose to him. _

"A dance then?" he asked, holding his hand out.

"Yes," she said, thinking for a moment what fools they would look, the drunken duo prancing around the floor. She had never really had much of a sense of rhythm anyway, but then Grobnar struck up a reel and her feet took it from there. Having to concentrate on not toppling over took her mind off of Casavir, and when she and Jem collapsed, breathless and laughing, onto a bench, the pain in her heart had lifted a bit. She grabbed another mug of wine for herself and one for her partner and they toasted to the health of the newlyweds, loudly and obnoxiously. She looked back out at the floor to see that both Talia and Lissia had disappeared, and that the brother-in-law had sauntered over to them.

"So who's your mistress, Quarely?" he slurred, sitting down next to them and leering at her, "Looks like one of the aasimar, doesn't she?"

"She ain't my mistress, Lothran," Jem said.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I had her a bit?" he asked.

Adahni's head, by this point, was swimming. She heard her voice, disembodied from herself, say, "You know I'm right here."

"All right, then, lass," Jem's brother-in-law said. Up close, he was still devastatingly handsome, with black curling hair and teeth that showed very white against his tanned skin, but he reeked of ale and women's perfume that Adahni imagined either his wife or Talia was wearing, "Would you mind if I had you a bit?"

"Yes, I would!" she exclaimed, giving him a shove that sent him sprawling.

"Whoa there, lass!" he chuckled, "Didn't know you were bought and paid for."

She got up off the bench, pushing her sleeves up. He was tall and looked muscular, but imagined that he had no idea how to handle himself in a fight.

"What's she doing?" she heard him ask, "Why's she..."

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She looked up to see Casavir standing over the man.

"But the bitch shoved me!" Lothran protested.

"You don't speak that way to my lady," the paladin said. He extended a hand to help Lothran up, "She is a squire of Neverwinter and a noble leader, not some barroom whore. You would do well to apologize to her and go on your way."

"Lousy party anyway," he growled, rose, and spat on the ground. He stalked out of the room, throwing a mug to the floor on the way out.

"Thank you, Cas," she said, bowing her head, "I'm sorry for losing my temper."

"I apologize for the behavior of my brother-in-law," Jem said.

"It's hardly your fault, Jem," Casavir said, "Where is your wife? I would have liked to greet her."

"She probably went back to take care of the baby," Jem said. Adahni saw the color rise to his cheeks. She looked around the room and saw no sign of her, her sister, or the ranger.

"Yes," Casavir said, "I heard she left him with the dwarf. I would be concerned as well. I suppose we will run into each other before you leave town."

"Congratulations on your wedding," Jem said, shaking the paladin's hand, "Shouldn't you be off with your lady fair, not conversing with the likes of us?"

Casavir laughed lowly, "I have a lifetime with my lady fair, and who knows how long with the likes of you? If she had her way I would take up a peacetime trade and lay down my armor for good."

"Aw, Cas, no..." Adahni could not help herself from groaning.

"Of course I wouldn't do that," Casavir said, "The love between a man and woman is no less than that among comrades in arms. My loyalty is to you, first, my lady, and will be until you no longer need me."

"I doubt I will ever not need you, Cas," she said, "But Jem has a point. This is her day, and you oughtn't burden it with oaths of loyalty to me!"

"I'm glad you have my best interests at heart, my lady," he said, grinning, "I would ask you for one more thing."

"Anything you ask."

"Favor us with a song?" he asked.

"Ahh, and you again ask me to work on my day off!" she exclaimed, "Do you have a preference?"

"Sing us a love song, won't you?"

"That I can do," she said.

She went over to Grobnar and named the song she was going to sing. It was one of the ones she had collected in the little anthology, which Casavir had since returned to her. she was not too surprised to find that the band knew it, and obliged her by playing the first few bars in a key that agreed with her voice.

_"I'm a rover and seldom sober_

_I'm a rover of high degree_

_But when I'm drinking, I'm always thinking_

_How to gain my love's company_

_Though the night be as dark as dungeons_

_Not a star to be seen above_

_I will be guided without a stumble_

_Into the arms of my own true love_

_He stepped up to her bedroom window_

_Kneeling gently upon a stone_

_  
He whispers through her bedroom window_

_My darling dear, do you lie alone?"_

Without the mandolin or harp to concentrate on, she could watch the reactions of the partygoers. She was really throwing herself into it this time, focusing all the magic into the song, playing the emotions of those around her like the musicians were playing their instruments. In the corner of the room, she saw the ranger enter. His hair was tousled and his shirt was buttoned the wrong way. As she paused to let the musicians have their turns playing the melody, she saw first Talia, whose hair had come out of its braid and formed a fluffy golden halo around her face, and then Lissia, who was hurriedly tying hers back, follow him down the stairs, and she had to catch herself before letter her jaw drop. She glanced at Jem, but he was standing next to Casavir and Vania, and seemed to be paying attention to only her.

_"She opened the door with the greatest pleasure_

_She opened the door and she let him in_

_They both shook hands and embraced each other_

_Until the morning they lay as one_

_Says I: My love I must go and leave you_

_To climb the hills they are far above_

_  
But I will climb with the greatest pleasure_

_Since I've been in the arms of my love_

_I'm a rover and seldom sober_

_I'm a rover of high degree_

_But when I'm drinking, I'm always thinking_

_How to gain my love's company."_

As she sang the last verses, she tried to signal to the ranger to re-button his shirt properly, but only succeeded in confusing him. He sat himself on the stairs, the sisters hurrying away from him and back to the wine, and stayed still and paid attention until the end of the song. She nodded graciously to her audience, and let the band continue with the dancing music themselves. Casavir and Vania were about ready to leave at that point, retire to the flat they had rented in the Merchant Quarter, and do what couples did on their wedding nights. After the fanfare of their leaving, she saw that the Talia had left the bar, presumably without telling her husband, and Lissia, discovering her husband gone, had cozied up to Bishop.

Adahni rushed over and took him by the elbow, begging Lissia's pardon. She dragged him to the corner of the room. "Did you just do what I thought you just did? Because that's disgusting."

"They're _twins_," Bishop shrugged by way of excuse.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Twins! When was I ever going to get an opportunity like that again? They're blond and pretty and two of the biggest whores I have ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"They're thirty, they're both married, and one of them has a child."

"Yes, I could tell," he said, grinning, "The other one, the one that left, wasn't it."

"Ugh!" Adahni squealed, realizing what he was referring to, "And here I was thinking you'd be behaving yourself."

"Me? Behave myself? Was that or was that not the loose one's husband you've been all cozy with tonight? And if Neeshka's to be believed, the two of you had quite a romp in the heather this past fall. I thought I was doing you a favor, freeing him up to take you up against the wall outside or wherever exotic location it is you would prefer..."

"All right, Bishop, you do whatever it is you want, but I'm not going to protect you when both their husbands find out what it is you've done..."

"So what's the deal here? Jealous?"

"Of them? I don't even want to know what diseases you're carrying. You go do whatever it is you're going to do... and button your shirt properly."

"Always looking out for me, aren't you, Farishta?" he commented.

"Just... stay out of trouble." She whirled and went to go back to the wine, her skirts twirling around her.

"Y'know it could have been you if you'd gotten in line first."

She turned again. Casavir had left, as had most of the knights that were his friends. The only people left were her companions, Cormick, Katriona, and a few of the other men and women who had served under the _katalmach_. Instead of slapping him this time, she hit him with a closed fist, striking him in the mouth and knocking him to the floor.

Shandra and Neeshka were by her side in an instant, along with Jem.

"Ooh... what'd he say?" Neeshka said.

Adahni just shook out her fist and scowled. "I've had enough of him for one night."

"What, going to go soothe the ego of the poor cuckold?" Bishop called, scrambling to his feet, "Scrambling to pick up what another woman let fall to the floor?"

This time, before Adahni could stop him, it was Jem hit the ranger. He was about as effective a fighter as he had always been, and didn't even hit as hard as her. The crowd, which by now had a drunk to sober ratio of thirty to one (the one was Katriona, who eschewed alcohol) and gathered around, chanting encouragements.

"That's as hard as you get? No wonder you're wife's screwing around on you," Bishop taunted him, stepping forward and shoving him hard with both hands.

"You son of a bitch," Jem growled, punching him again, this time in the stomach. Bishop fell back a bit, but when Jem advanced, he belted him in the eye, and followed up with a knee to the stomach, sending him reeling to the floor. Jem, bravely, tried to rise, but Bishop planted one boot - one boot that Adahni had stolen for him - on the other man's chest.

"It's all right, I didn't expect much of a fight from a man who can't satisfy a woman," Bishop said, pushing him back to the floor.

To Adahni's surprise, Jem started laughing, a trickle of blood coursing out of the corner of his mouth, "Those are brave words," he said, "Coming from someone whose father and grandfather are the same man!"

The crowd fell deadly silent. Bishop started backwards as though he'd been struck, giving Jem time to rise again. But the expression of shock on his face soon turned to one of rage. "I'll skin you alive," Bishop snarled. Adahni darted forward, in between the two men as she saw Bishop reaching for his knife. "Stop!" she yelled, but there was nothing that was going to make him stop at this point. She managed to turn herself sideways before he moved forward, so that the knife cut into her shoulder instead of her chest.

It still hurt. Clutching the wound, she moved backwards as Cormick caught Bishop's elbow and whacked his hand, making him drop his knife. "All right, someone's cooling his heels in the drunk tank tonight," he said, "And tomorrow night, for making me work on my day off. And the night after that, depending on what Addie has to say."

"I don't care what happens to him, someone close my arm up," she hissed. The blade had cut her shoulder to the bone. Katriona barreled her way through the crowd, put her hands on the wound, and whispered a prayer. Adahni felt the blood stop flowing and sighed.

"I think the party is decidedly over," Shandra declared, "Move along people, nothing to see here."

The room cleared pretty quickly. Shandra, in her new capacity as a watchman, went with Cormick, at least partially, Adahni imagined, for the satisfaction of locking the ranger away. Adahni found Ophala, who had retreated to the kitchen, and handed her the last of her gold, "For the damage," she said, "And a room for the night."

"Will you be needing any... services?" the madame asked.

"No," Adahni said.

"We have a new young man, just stepped off the boat from Baldur's Gate."

"Really," she said, "I'm not interested. I just need to get some rest."

"Suit yourself," Ophala said, shrugging, and handed her a key, "First door on your left."

She went back into the bar room and up the stairs. Jem, who had been waiting by the door, nursing a black eye and a split lip, followed her silently. The room, she had to admit, lavish, rivaled only by that one room in the Cuckoo's Nest where she'd killed a man for the first time.

"Isn't your wife going to wonder where you are?" she asked, lighting a candelabra with her breath.

"I don't care anymore," he said, his speech obscured by his rapidly swelling lip, "I always heard the name of the game at this place was discretion. If she asks me, I'll say I got a whore in a moment of weakness."

He flopped down on the bed, not even bothering to remove his shoes, "That wound was meant for me," he said, "And I probably deserved it."

"No you didn't," Adahni said, "Come on, love, try and get some sleep. Things will seem less fucked up in the morning, you hear?"

"I'm leaving in the morning, back to the prison," he sighed.

"You don't have to go back," she said.

He kicked off his shoes, flinging them against the wall. She did the same, laying back on the soft mattress and sighing, wishing she had not had quite so much to drink that night. "You're a sweet girl, Addie," he said. He rolled over and laid his head on her chest, "I'm sorry to have dragged you into this."

She absently stroked the side of his face, feeling the painful swelling of his mouth. "Things should have been different for us," she sighed. _I should have never talked myself out of loving him, she thought, I should never have allowed my eyes to fall on Casavir. If only... if only the Luskans had not burned Barnslow, this could have been my life, I could be a wife and a mother and sleep beside the same man every night..._

"It can't be helped," he replied, flinging one arm over her. He was silent a moment, "You know I lied to you."

"You lied?"

"You asked me once if I was in love with you and I laughed in your face," he said, "That laugh was a lie."

"It can't be helped," she echoed him. She slid her hand down the back of his shirt to stroke his back like she would an upset child. Her fingers found the scars, and she must have flinched, because he started back from her like she'd hurt him.

"I can't feel anything there anyway," he said, sighing.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It's all right, they're horrible, I know," he replied.

"No they're not," she said. She stripped off her dress. Aside from the rip in the shoulder, which could be repaired, it only needed a washing to be salvaged. "Look, it looks like my belly is smiling." She showed him the scar that Dayven had left her with. Jem chuckled, and put his hand over it.

"You're a sweet girl, Addie," he said again. He moved up and kissed her mouth with his broken lip, then laid his head on her bare shoulder and shut his eyes.

"If you leave, I'll probably never see you again," she said.

"That's what I thought last time," he mumbled, "And here we are."

"No," she said, "They've accused me of slaughtering a village. Luskan wants my boots beneath the gallows before the winter's out."

She waited awhile for his response, but then realized he was already asleep. No reason to trouble him with my problems, she thought. She blew out the candles, and, leaning her head against his, tried to get some sleep. Her dreams, though, were vivid and frightening, and stayed with her until she woke up, long after dawn. She looked around, but Jem was already gone. Jem was gone, Casavir was gone, Bishop was locked up... Her memory of the previous night was fuzzy, only the scar on her shoulder and the blood on her dress reminders of what had transpired. She made her way back to the Sunken Flagon under the noonday sun. Now, there were no events, nothing between her and the trial anymore. The only thing to look forward to in her future was darkness.


	52. Torio's Silk Balloon

Adahni spent the week before the trial in a fog, mechanically going about her tasks. The morning before, Sand sat her down and laid out the evidence in front of her. She listened, numbly, without really absorbing any of it. He patted her shoulder as he left, and she went to change into the gown she would be wearing, a simple woolen shift that the elf had said would make her look sympathetic, a simple girl from Westharbor at heart. She braided her hair into two black plaits and pinned them to the top of her head, giving her the look of a milkmaid.

Neeshka and Khelgar, who had now thrown their support entirely behind her, flanked her on the long winding route to the court. Cormick, who had been a regular patron of the inn since Casavir's wedding, followed them, in his blue watch cloak. She had seen, recently, how his eyes followed the greatest thief in Neverwinter's history, not like a watchman followed a criminal, but more like a plowboy might follow a farmer's daughter, and took comfort in the fact that the tiefling would be taken care of once she was gone. Shandra wore her blue watch cloak, Casavir his armor, which had been polished to gleam in the sunlight. The rest of the companions took up the rear, even Qara holding her tongue for once.

The throne room had never seemed so intimidating as she walked by the courtiers and citizens of Neverwinter, Sand's hand on her arm. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, but said nothing. He really didn't look anything like Daeghun, but something in his manner reminded her of her father, and she was comforted. She wondered briefly if Daeghun even knew that that trial was today, and if he did, if he would even think of attending. She hoped, at least, that he would attend the execution. She chuckled bitterly at the thought.

They waited for what seemed an eternity in an anteroom, until Adahni heard Lord Nasher's bellow.

"Bring in the accused!"

Adahni walked in, setting her jaw and looking coolly over the faces of the crowd. Nobody booed or hissed, but they watched her in judgmental silence.

"Reverend Judge," the lord intoned, "Let the trial commence."

Adahni's eyes snapped to Judge Oleff, who was standing at Nasher's feet, "We are gathered here to determine the truth of the crime committed in the small village of Ember... its people slaughtered to the last man, woman, and child. Under Tyr's guidance shall the truth of this matter be revealed - and justice delivered. Is the accuser here?"

"I speak for those the accused slaughtered at Ember," Torio's high-pitched whine echoed through the atrium, "And I am here to see that justice is carried out on this day." Adahni looked coldly at her, the high collar jutting out from her back like the mane of a hyena, her ample bosom laid out like a two cuts of meat on a plate. She looked more like a whore than the girls her husband had strayed to.

"As are we all," Adahni said, smirking inwardly.

"And is the accused here? And her defender?"

"We are present," Sand said, his voice high and imperious, "And eager to bring the truth of this matter into Tyr's sight, Reverend Judge."

"We now list the items presented by the accused in her defense, and they will be shown to the people of the court, Lord Nasher, and held aloft for the eye of Tyr to see. First off..."

Adahni sat down as Sand handed her evidence to the judge, who all but passed the articles around. Sand, however, observed the proceedings keenly. "Perfect," he purred, "Look at their faces. Torio's got quite a task ahead of her. That little harpy, let's see her fly out of this trap."

"The accuser, Ambassador Torio Claven of Luskan, may now call witnesses to the stand."

"These pieces of "evidence," if that is what they truly are, can easily be explained away. It may seem extensive, but our witnesses will tell a different story."

"Forgive me, amabassador," Adahni said, channeling everything she had into making her voice low and warm-sounding next to Torio's shriek, "But are you speculating on the truth of the evidence?"

"Speculate?" Torio squeaked, "The truth is what we are here to determine. Everything is in question."

"Is it," she said, "You seem quite certain of my guilt. Are you admitting that is also in question?"

"Of course not!" the ambassador insisted, "And I aim to prove it."

"Which is it, _Ambassador?_" Adahni taunted her, "Am I guilty or not in your eyes? I am finding it difficult to find the truth in your wordplay."

"I suggest you hold your tongue," Torio growled in response, "I think you will want to hear what my witnesses have to say."

"My," snickered Sand, "She has a temper. Well done, I am impressed."

"I understand that you wish to stall the witnesses about to speak, but there is really nothing more your wordplay can do to prevent it," the ambassador said, "Let me call my first witness to the stand. Elgun, resident of Port Llast, and a witness to the slaughter at Ember."

Elgun's beard walked in, followed by the man himself.

"Welcome, Elgun," Torio intoned, "You were brave to make the journey here, especially considering the danger in testifying."

Adahni snickered, "Now, now, Ambassador, I'm sure you wouldn't strike Elgun while he was testifying, so I doubt he's in any danger here."

Though it was a mediocre joke, the tense occupants of the upper balconies burst into laughter. Adahni looked up at them. In the very back, for only an instant, the crowd parted in such a way that she could have sworn she saw her father sitting there. But it moved again, and he disappeared. Heartened, she looked back at her accuser.

"Laugh now, if you will, but I'll wipe that smile from your face, I promise you. Let us here Elgun speak of what he saw "squire" - you will have your chance in time, I promise you. Now, Elgun, you said you saw the murder at Ember, did you not?"

"That I did!" Elgun exclaimed, affecting a voice that Grobnar sometimes used when telling a grandiose tale, "And a fierce, unfair battle against incredible odds it was. I tried to fight off the murderers, but one of them got a lucky blow against me, and down I went."

"So you can confirm the accused was at Ember? And you saw the murder of those villagers?"

"Oh, yes. Those poor helpless farmers, cut down by that one there! I tried to save them, you know, but I was only one man against many - and demons as well!"

"Demons? Are you serious?"

"Please speak freely, Elgun, you have nothing to fear from the accused here, she cannot harm you."

"No need to defend me, Lady Torio," Elgun said, "I can handle myself. If any bloodthirsty killer tries to come at me, they'll get more than they bargained for."

"The witness has identified the accused as the one who killed the villagers. I have no more questions, Reverend Judge."

"I'd like to question the witness," Adahni declared, "Just to clear a few things up, of course..."

"What did you want to know? I've given my testimony."

"So you fought of myself and... demons. I see... where are the scars?"

"What?" Elgun said, bewildered, "I heal quickly, is all - they must have hit me with a club or something. It was from behind, so I'm not certain."

"We had Elgun's wounds healed when he returned," Torio blurted out.

"So where was the wound?" Adahni asked slyly.

"Chest... down to the stomach," Elgun replied hastily.

"But you said you were hit from behind."

"I-"

"I think we've heard enough," Adahni said. She was just getting into things. It occurred to her suddenly, that Torio Claven was not nearly as dangerous as she'd thought. She had realized at some point during her childhood that the vast majority of people out there - human, elf, dwarf, gnome, halfling - were idiots. Adahni herself, of course, had her less proud moments, but counted herself as relatively intelligent for someone who had had no formal schooling.

Even four hundred years of living for an elf, Adahni realized after meeting a few of Daeghun's kin, could not make a moron into a wise man, and forty or so years of Torio Claven's life could not make an eloquent prosecutor of a woman more suited to a laundry than the court. Her case was like a silk balloon - large and imposing to look at, but filled with nothing but hot air. Adahni danced around the witnesses, playing with them like a cat plays with a mouse, throwing darts at the balloon until it sagged under its own weight, and then came crashing down as Nasher sat forward in his throne and pronounced her innocent.

At the time, Adahni was filled with a bursting elation and relief. Years later, she would look back and wonder how she ever could have doubted that she would be found innocent, but at the time she was joyous. She embraced her companions - even Qara - and looked around the room with regret to see that the ranger - still languishing behind bars - was not there. Her mind skipped briefly over the night that had gotten him in trouble. _What Jem said... that did deserve a stabbing...although Bishop really was asking for it, and he did screw his wife, but still to say that in front of Tyr and the world... anyway, there really wasn't any harm done._

"Cormick?" she said, tugging gently on the marshall's cloak.

"What can I do for you, my innocent friend?" he asked, grinning broadly.

"Let Bishop out," she said, "For me?"

"He sank a four-inch blade into your arm," Cormick said, the smile remaining on his face but looking someone more... frozen, "Although if anyone had said that about me I probably would have done the same thing..."

"I've had worse," she said, "Let him go. I'll deal with him."

The courtroom had begun to clear, Torio Claven still standing at her post, dumbfounded that she had been foiled. She looked around, flustered, and then fired a parting salvo, "I invoke the right to Trial by Combat!" she declared.

Sand's mouth dropped open, but he shut it quickly, "I was hoping she wouldn't know about that."

_Combat... combat I can do, combat I'm good at,_Adahni thought. If anything the declaration was giving her hope. "So what does that mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Sand said. Behind him, Lord Nasher and Nevalle were discussing something, some sort of statements were being made, "The Luskans pick a champion, you pick a champion, everyone meditates before Tyr the night before and whoever doesn't have to get cleaned off the arena floor is declared to be in the right."

"That's downright barbaric," Adahni said, "But I like the idea. Tell me, what are the chances that I can battle Claven herself? That'd be fun."

She was stopped by a hand, heavy and gloved on her shoulder. She turned and looked up to be faced with a larger, balder, version of a man she had known since childhood. She had seen him several times, but always from across the room, and always tried to deny that it was him, Bevil's brother, whom she had swigged moonshine with for all of one hot summer, who had defended her from Cormick on more than one occasion. _How things have changed,_she thought, _How we've all changed._She glanced behind her at the marshall, who had drawn closer to her at Starling's approach, the three harbormen forming an awkward triangle.

"It is too bad Neverwinter has turned a blind eye to the truth," he growled, glaring down at her.

_Do you even recognize me, even know me?_she thought, but when she looked into his eyes they were glassy, two blue marbles that saw nothing and reflected no light. She shook her head and looked at the floor.

"I will see that justice is done," he said.

"Good luck with that, Starling," she said softly, and turned away. "You're going to need it.


	53. Justice

She set her jaw and narrowed her eyes at the world on the way to the Temple of Tyr, where she was expected to spend the night uttering some rubbish or another. Judge Oleff accompanied her, his presence at her side both a comfort and an annoyance. She was in her head again, not listening to the droning explanation of what she ought to do and pray for and to whom to pray. The followers of Tyr acted like everyone really should be following their path, lesser gods be damned. _My own way, _she thought, _My own way has served me well so far, may it serve me well here._

The temple's lights were dim and she found herself with a hard time seeing even after the streetlamps outside. "It is tradition," a voice came from the darkness. Adahni recognized it as belonging to Prior Hlam, but in the half-light and echoes he sounded older, more imposing, "To undergo the Rites of Tyr before trial by combat."

"I understand that part," she replied, her own voice sounding small next to his.

"You will spend the night in contemplation," he said, "And prayer. It is held in seclusion here within the Hall of Justice. By purifying one's mind and reflecting on one's deeds, sometimes it allows one to achieve the clarity needed to avoid bloodshed in a trial by combat by admitting one's guilt... although I do not believe that will happen this night. It is Neverwinter law, and it must be upheld. You must complete the rite and prepare yourself for battle against your accuser in the morning."

Adahni was silent for a moment. She thought on what Bishop had said that night in Port Llast. _I think you and I ought to go off, find a hidden trail somewhere and camp for a year or two until this whole thing blows over. _The winter was all but past now, travel would be muddy... but they could be far from civilization before the sun came up again. If Cormick let him go as she requested, surely he would seek her out, even in the confines of the Temple of Tyr. What did she have to stay for, any longer? She was innocent, her companions would not face the hangman. Two love stories had ended, Khelgar's tragically, Casavir's happily - for Casavir and Vania anyway - and her own had come to a bittersweet end that morning a week prior in the same building she stood now, contemplating her escape. At the end of the day, she and Bishop were very much alike, and would serve each other well as travelling companions, at least.

"Fine," she said, not looking at him, "Let's get this over with." She had seen, on her way into the building, how the great stained glass windows would slide open, if you could climb far enough up to touch. She observed the stones, how they were uneven, many handholds.

"Your companions will have to leave you alone for the first phase of the Rite. It is tradition."

She looked behind her, where her companions had arrived - all but the ranger. She smiled slightly. "All right, everyone, you heard the man. Out."

"Hold a moment!" she heard Khelgar bellow from the door. The rest of her companions had turned tail, but Khelgar, eyes blazing, ran up the center aisle, "This Rite of Tyr can wait! I haven't had _my _say yet!"

She saw the wild, desperate, look in his eye, the look of a man who has lost all hope but one. She nodded, and let him continue.

"Why am I here? Well, it's because I want to take your place. That... Torio, she's got you matched up with a Luskan-trained killer."

Adahni laughed, "Wouldn't be the first time," she chuckled.

"There's no justice in that little viper suddenly bringing a bear out of nowhere to fight you! Let me fight him! He's a... a... dog, not even worthy of your - he fights like a Luskan fights, through daggers in the back - poisoned daggers, even!"

"Why are you so upset?" she asked.

"Because it's not fair, that's why! I don't mind a fight for a fight's sake, but this "crime" they've accused you of, the slaughter of an entire village, it's more than a fight... it's..."

"You feel that it is unjust," Hlam said quietly.

"You're damn right it is!" Khelgar growled.

"You are allowed to choose a champion," Hlam said, "Do you wish this one to take your place?"

She stooped a little, putting herself at eye level with him, "Is this about her?" she asked.

Khelgar shook his head steadily like the pendulum of a clock, "This is about you, and me, and all that ought to be good and right with the world."

"If you wish to fight in my place, I'd be honored," she said. She meant it, too, unlike when she usually allowed such high-minded-sounding words fall from her lips. He reached up, and shook her hand vigorously, and then turned and strode out of the temple without another word. Hlam beckoned her into the Hall of Justice, where she followed him. _Damn... the window is near unreachable... _she thought, and sighed. She trusted Khelgar, of course... but Lorne was... Lorne was big and would probably be under the influence of Cyric's Madness...

"Here you will remain," Hlam intoned, "Until we come for you in the morning."

Adahni busied herself, stretching out on the flagtones and looking up at Tyr's stone, bearded face, not unlike Nasher's. She barely batted an eye when the elf arrived.

"Quiet enough for you? I mean, now that Khelgar is done ranting, I heard it from several streets away. Actually helped me find this place," Sand said, "I must say, I didn't expect that we would be able to force Torio's hand like this - trial by combat is a rather desperate maneuver, quite unlike her. It's really rather quite pleasing. And if you were to beat Lorne... well, that would make me simply ecstatic. I could help, you know..."

"Anything to tip the odds," Adahni sighed, rolling onto her side and rising.

"Here, take these," Sand said. He tossed her a pouch containing several vials, "It's a few special concoctions I whipped up to help you tomorrow should Lorne decide to poison, cheat, or simply give you several gaping chest wounds. No need to thank me... there is one last thing, though. Our friend Torio, I think she's rather close to breaking. It's what happens when one is tied to an ill-conceived plan, as I once felt. And I think Torio is one who prefers to be on the winning side. Remember that."

The elf turned and padded out of the room, leaving Adahni with her head cocked to one side, contemplating exactly how she was going to murder that bitch. Torio didn't know it, of course, but this was the second time she was trying to have her killed. Adahni was beginning to feel as though she were on the wrong end of a vendetta. Decapitating her would be satisfying, she thought...

"Forgive me," a familiar voice came from the end of the room. Adahni looked up to see the paladin, "I did not mean to disturb the Rites."

"You're not disturbing me," she thought, snapping her thoughts away from Torio's spurting aorta as though Casavir would sense the perverse darkness of her mind if she sayed there.

"I was troubled," he said, "I thought perhaps by seeking you out, that I could help... somehow. I know something of knightly combat. More so than your opponent. Are you familiar with the etiquette of the duel?"

"I am," she said, vaguely remembering Sir Grayson lecturing her at some point during the past month or so.

"Very well," Casavir said. He stepped back as if to leave, but instead drew closer to her. "I... I have also come to offer my blade to you, to serve as your champion."

"Really, and what does your new-made bride think of this?" asked Adahni.

"She does not know I'm here," Casavir replied.

"Thank you, Cas," she said, "But Khelgar beat you to the punch."

Casavir nodded, "He is a good man, an honorable man, despite himself I think. May he serve you well."

After Cas left, she wondered how many more of her companions would come to keep her awake. She dozed off in the torchlight, anticipating to be woken by Shandra or Bishop before the night was out. But it was Nevalle who came and found her, shaking her awake.

"It is time," he said. She shook herself awake, half wondering why Bishop had not come. "Torio... and Lorne... await us on the field. Nasher wished to communicate to you the importance of the coming battle - both for you, and for Neverwinter itself."

"Little pressure, eh?" she cracked.

"This is a great honor," Sir Grayson, who had been waiting by the door, added, "To be able to lay down your life for your homeland. You should savor this moment."

_Shove it up your ass, _she thought.

"For too long has Luskan's Arcane Brotherhood had free passage in Neverwinter. This trial a means by which their presence can be removed. Succeed in this, and Nasher has promised to grant you your own land - and a noble title."

"Hnh!" Adahni said, "Nobility, eh? Well then, I suppose they must pay for their crimes."

* * *

The morning was bright and dazzling and warm, the sun heating the crowds at the tourney grounds to a tizzy of cheers. She seated herself beside Casavir and Vania in the very back, high up in the air. She gripped the bench so tightly her knuckles went white with the effort. She looked before her to see that the rest of her companions - Bishop included - were seated in the front, pressed up against the railing.  
Next to Khelgar, Lorne looked even more imposing than he by his own formidable self. Khelgar, though, seemed in a chipper mood. As Oleff went on about Tyr and judgment and all that, she looked band met the ranger's eyes. He nodded slowly at her by way of greeting, put his hand over his shoulder, and raised his eyebrows. She nodded, pulling back her tunic to show that it was healed. He grimaced, slightly, in an expression she imagined he probably thought of as a smile.

She heard Lorne's battle cry and saw his hulking form rush towards Khelgar. In an amazing feat of nimbleness, Khelgar jumped out of the way and struck Lorne with his axe in the place where the plates of his leg-armor met. Lorne faltered, and Khelgar struck him again, this time with the handle of his axe, on the exposed flesh of his neck. _He's been practicing, _Adahni thought, _This isn't a brawl to him where he can just hit him til he goes down, he's been thinking about this one, strategizing. _She admired his handiwork. He took a few blows, but managed to dodge a good portion of them.

The fight only took about ten minutes, but every one of them was excruciatingly long. She leaned forward, looking at the fight. As Khelgar raised his axe to strike the decisive blow, she felt a splatter on the back of her neck. She heard Vania yelp, and saw, to her confusion, that the girl's blond hair was spattered with red. She put a hand to the back of her neck, then to her face, and saw blood. She rose and whirled.

The corpse at her feet had blond hair and an arrow through his neck, a dagger dripping with poison on the ground where it had fallen from his now limp hand. She knew who it was before she turned him over, and looked up to see the ranger putting his bow back on his back. "Did..."

"Quiet bugger," he said, scrambling up the seats, "Did he touch you?"

"No... he... where'd he even come from?" she asked.

"Climbed up the back," Bishop said, "I thought Torio might pull something like this."

"Another assassin?" Casavir asked. He had hurried Vania away from the corpse, but had returned while she went into quiet hysterics a few feet away, "The nerve on her!"

"We'll never be able to prove that it was Torio," Bishop said, "She's learned better than to mark those who are in her service."

"What possible motivation could he have had for killing Addie, if he's not Torio's man?"

"He didn't," Bishop replied, "But Torio has a very sound argument for why he did it." He stuck his toe under the assassin's shoulder and flipped him over so his vacant green eyes straed at the sky, "Jealous husband."

Looking at Dayven's dead face, Adahni felt almost nothing. There was a twinge of something - happiness? Pleasure? Or guilt? It passed, quickly.

"Who... what's going on here, Addie?" asked Casavir.

"Well, remember how I told you that I never wanted to speak of my husband?" she said, "That was him."

"You said he was hanged for murder," Casavir said, puzzled.

"I thought he was," Adahni said, sighing, "I suppose Luskan had better uses for him."

"Luskan?" Casavir said, "No wonder you didn't wish to speak of him..."

"Well, apparently he's dead now," Adahni said, "Though he's been dead to me for much longer."

It took a few minutes for Cormick and Brelaina to show up, Neeshka and Shandra following close after.

"What's going on here?" asked Cormick, "Who is this man? Who killed him?"

"He was making an attempt on the life of my lady," Casavir said sternly, "The ranger shot him down before he could do so."

"You witnessed this?" asked Brelaina, a little surprised.

"Yes," Casavir said, "My wife and I did, and my lady."

"Bishop?"

"He had his knife in the air when I spotted him. Addie here is lucky I'm such a superior shot."

"Is he Luskan?" asked Brelaina.

"No," Marshall said. He looked up at them from where he was examining the corpse, "This is Dayven Elhandrien. We grew up together in West Harbor... me and him and Lorne and Addie and... what is he doing here?"

"Same thing as Lorne, I'd imagine," Adahni said.

Cormick nodded slowly, "Well I imagine this is all a little confusing for you, Addie."

"No," Adahni said, "Best thing that could have happened to that piece of filth. Thank you, Bishop. I think this makes up for stabbing me in the arm the other night."

"That wouldn't have happened if you hadn't put yourself between that bastard..."

"Let's just call it even," she said, "So, I wonder what debts he's left behind that I'll have to settle..."

Far away, on the tourney grounds, Lorne fell, crumpling to the ground.

"Justice has been served!" Lord Nasher's voice echoed over the arena.

"Yes," Bishop said, looking down at his fresh kill, "It has."

"My judgment passed at the trial shall now take effect, as was intended."

"What do we do with him?" Brelaina asked.

"Shouldn't we..."

"It's a pretty cut and dried case of defense," Brelaina said, "He was about to murder a squire of Neverwinter, and her companion, ne'er do well as he is, prevented that from happening. What do we do with him?"

"Butcher him and tell Torio it's pork for all I care," Adahni said, snorting.

"My judgment passed at the trial shall now take effect, as was intended," Nasher bellowed, "Ambassador... you now have much to answer for. To the accused - I believe you are in need of a well-deserved rest. Please return to the Sunken Flagon. That is a command of your lord, soldier of Neverwinter!"

Adahni was still processing. She looked from Lorne's corpse to Dayven's to her companions.

"You heard the man, go home and get drunk," Marshall said, "Let the Watch take care of this. Don't leave town, though."

"Always a comfort, Cormick," she said, "All right... I think we've all been through enough for one day. Whiskey. Whiskey sounds good..."

"Whiskey," Bishop mused, "There is a bit of wisdom I've picked up in my long, long years. Whiskey is always a good idea."


	54. Whiskey and SelfRespect

Back in her room at the Flagon, washed and in a comfortable cotton shift, her armor abandoned in the closet, Adahni began to feel as though she had just been trampled by a herd of iron-shod horses. The rest of them were out in the bar room, toasting Khelgar and getting drunk. Thoughts of Lorne and Dayven plagued her mind. All the worry of the trial had been lifted from her shoulders, but she had not counted on the aftermath. She had not given much thought to Lorne. Once he left for the war, it was as though he were a non-entity. Even Bevil stopped talking about him. There had been good days, though, she thought. He'd been kind to her as a child. He'd never been terribly bright, barely literate at best, and would listen to her recant stories from books she'd read, and those she'd made up. He was seven or more years her senior, but had played the part of the older brother, never having an unkind word for her.

He'd grown distant as he grew older. Dayven introduced him to the drink, and it made him a different man, sent him into philosophical battles with himself about right and wrong. Adahni remembered a few of those, but knew that he must have had them more frequently while she and Dayven stole off to have a tumble in the woods. Poor Lorne, she thought, poor stupid hulk of a man, poisoned by that bitch Torio...

And Dayven. Now that Casavir knew he'd lied to her, the truth would have to come out, her time in Luskan, her former.... profession. _All right, maybe not that. _Either way, it didn't matter if she lost Cas, he was already gone, married to that blond slip of a woman who lost her cool at the sight of blood. She really ought to release him from her service anyway. The last thing she needed by her side was a man whose loyalties were divided. No matter what he said about believing in her mission, she could not trust that he would continue to do so if she allowed him to see her for what she was. To keep Casavir by her side was an exercise in play-acting, in hiding her true thoughts and feelings, and it was getting exhausting.

She lay back on her bed and lit a smoke, blowing a ring up into the rafters. _What next? _she thought, _This obstacle is over... when's the next one going to rear its ugly head?_

She woke up and she had charred a hole in her pillow where her smoke had tumbled from her mouth. From the noise outside her door, drinking time was still in full swing and the party had escalated. She turned her pillow over in embarassment, wiped the drool from her face, and went out. The desire to be alone had left her, and now she felt that she'd go insane if she couldn't be in the presence of others. And whiskey. Bishop had been right about that much. Her personal stash, which by this time was down to a single flagon of dark amber whiskey of the sort favored by the residents of Old Owl Well, she found tucked into the corner of her pack. She took three long swigs, and another for good measure, and went out to face the world.

Her entrance into the barroom was greeted with a cheer. She forced a grin and went to sit down next to Khelgar. "Barkeep!" she shouted, "Make sure this man can't remember his own name within the next four hours. On me!"

"On Lorne, you mean," Neeshka said, "You've inherited a small fortune."

"All right," sighed Adahni, "We're all drinking on Lorne's tab tonight. To Lorne Starling!" She raised her flask.

"Uh, you do know he's the bad guy, right?" Shandra pointed out.

"He wasn't always," Adahni said.

"All right, then," Khelgar said, "To Lorne, a worthy opponent!"

There was a reluctant cheer, and the sloshing of ale in tankards. Adahni took another swig of whiskey.

"So I hear she sent another assassin after you," Neeshka said quietly, leaning in so that only Adahni and Khelgar could hear her, "And that he was a little more familiar to you than you would prefer. I asked Cormick to keep it quiet. The whole thing. He had a talk with Brelaina, and they agreed that nobody needs to know any more than they already do."

"So you and Cormick, eh?" Adahni said.

"We also agreed that nobody needs to know any more about _that_ than they already do," the tiefling scowled.

"All right, all right, none of my business then," Adahni sighed, "So it's just you, and Khelgar, and Cas and the ranger that know about it then?"

"And the paladin's wife," Neeshka said, "Although she's been nearly catatonic since it happened. You'd think she'd never seen anyone get killed before."

"She probably hasn't," snorted Adahni.

"Anyway," Neeshka said, "He gave me this to give to you. There's not much of it, just what was found on the body and what was in the room he had on the Luskan ship that brought him in. Although it's entirely possible that this is all he owned in the world." The tiefling handed her a sack. Adahni peered inside. There was a pouch of gold, a few flasks - probably poisons or drugs - and a small book. The book she took and opened. Dayven, unlike Lorne, had been highly intelligent before he'd blown his brains out on Cyric's Madness.

"It's a diary, of sorts," Neeshka said, "I don't know if you'll want to read it..."

"You read it?" Adahni asked, looking at her sharply.

"Yes, I did," Neeshka said, "Well, I skimmed it anyway. He describes in detail every person he has ever killed, every job he ever took, going several years back. To when you were married."

"Exactly how closely did you read?" asked Adahni.

"Just the first and last entries. The last one is funny," Neeshka said, opening it up. There, in Dayven's scrawl, was her name. Beneath it was written _'Bitch put a rapier in my leg. I don't know who she is, or what power has brought her back from the dead to torture me, or if that bastard Kyrwan betrayed me, but I will put a blade in her back before the season's out.'_

"Hnh!" Adahni grunted, took the book back from Neeshka and put it back in the sack. She was tempted to throw the whole thing in the fire. The last thing she needed to do was relive those sordid years in Luskan. Then... just because it was there didn't mean she actually had to look at it. She took the whole sack back to her room and dumped it in her wardrobe, wanting to forget it existed.

She returned to the barroom, bottle in hand, swigging liberally now. She found Casavir and Vania sitting at a table with Shandra. Vania wasn't in a good mood, she could tell by the way she was staring into her wine glass as if in a trance and circling the rim with one finger to making that obnoxious ethereal ring.

"Once," she said, aware suddenly that her words were starting to run together, "Two years ago? Three? He wanted me to go get him something ... I don't remember what. But the area where the shop was in was dangerous and I didn't want to go after dark.... We fought about it and rather than go get it his damn self, he threw me down the stairs and made me sleep that night at the bar."

"My lady..." Casavir said, putting a hand on her forearm, "I had no..."

"I need you to know why I'm not grieving... all of you," she said, shaking her head, "Look," she said, pulling up her sleeve, "That scar there? He came after me one night with a knife... he accused me of being unfaithful to him... that one there? I wanted to get up, I had to go to work, only he wanted me to stay, and so he sank his teeth into my shoulder, like a dog! He wouldn't let go until I was bleeding... and then he hit me because I got blood on the sheets..."

By now, she was getting horrified and sympathetic stares from both the farmer and the paladin. Even the paladin's wife had stopped making her glass sing and was listening intently to her. "I'm glad he's dead," she slurred, "I'm happy about it."

"That's awful, Addie," Vania said.

"That was an evil man you saw felled today," Adahni said, "You shouldn't be so upset about it..."

She took another swig of whiskey. The bottle was halfway gone. When had she drank the rest of it?

"I'd like to go to bed now," Vania said absently.

"Of course, love," Casavir said, "If you will excuse us."

"Of course, of course..." Adahni said. She watched the two of them retreat into their chamber. She took another swig.

"How much of that have you finished?" Shandra asked warily.

"Not nearly enough," Adahni replied, and took another.

"You remember what happened the last time you..."

"I vomited on the ranger."

"And now he's saved your life," Shandra said.

"And it wouldn't be the first time!" Bishop, who from the sound of him was three sheets to the wind, stumbled up to the table and half-sat, half-fell into the chair beside her, "Gimme some of that!" He seized the bottle from her hands and took a healthy swig, and slammed it back down, "What is that?"

"It's brewed up north," Adahni said, hiccuping, "Rye whiskey... illegal here, you know!" She took another swig and put it down. Shandra, who while not a teetotaler, did not seem to share the love of the liquor that Bishop, Addie, and Khelgar did. She rolled her eyes and went to go flirt with a watchman who had been giving her the eye all night, leaving debtor and creditor to outdrink each other.

They proceeded to do so, racking up an impressive number of empty mugs, until all but Khelgar had either passed out or found somewhere else to do so. Khelgar, as he was wont to do, was lying with his mouth under the tap of a keg of fine blond ale from Port Llast. His eyes were closed, but the ale poured freely into his mouth and, presumably, down his throat. Judging from the pressure, there wasn't much left, and it would run out before the poor dwarf drowned.

"I... I thought I was free of him before," Adahni said, staring at her hands on the table. They were rough and calloused, far removed from the dainty lady's hands she'd had the last time she'd been in Luskan, "But if that were true, I suppose I wouldn't feel such a weight off my shoulders now."

"You are free of him," Bishop said, "And so'm I."

"What'd he do to you?" Adahni asked.

"Same things he did to you, I'd imagine," Bishop said mildly. The drink, rather than making him more exuberant and obnoxious, seemed to be making him more morose by the minute, "Same things he did to all the other apprentices. He wasn't terribly strong, hell I was bigger than him by the time I was sixteen, but.... but.... he always had a cruel streak that the others didn't have. He didn't just beat your body down..."

"He robbed me of hope," Adahni said, "He beat down my spirit..."

Bishop nodded bitterly, "Well, I'm glad I got to be the one to kill him. I thought for a moment you'd have some freaky woman's sixth sense and whirl around and stab him before I could get a shot off."

"I don't begrudge you the kill," Adahni said, "And I suppose I have to forgive you for stabbing me... was that really necessary?"

"Why'd you protect him?" Bishop asked, jutting his chin out, "Why'd you step in between us, after what he said?"

"Because you'd just fucked his wife!" Adahni shouted, louder than she meant to.

"That man," Bishop said, leaning drunkenly forward and talking right into her face, "Is bad news, his whole family is bad news... you'd do well to stay away from him."

"You don't have to worry about him," Adahni said, glaring at him, "He's just a sad, broken man, going home to a child that ain't his own. His family's all dead, so's you don't have to worry about them. But it's not well-advised to go speaking ill about the dead now, not to mention they took me in when you..."

"When I what?" Bishop asked, challenging her, "Disposed of the body? What did you want, Addie, you wanted me to come with you? You wanted me to take you away with me?"

"I wanted you to be _Dayven,"_ Adahni shouted, the tears springing to her eyes, "For this whole time, I thought... I knew that he'd come through for me, come to rescue me after all he'd put me through, I believed that he was a good person and he loved me... and now I don't even have that..."

"You're pathetic," Bishop grunted, "Always expecting the best in people, even after they've ruined your life, beat you, raped you... and you still seem to think that it's worth it to keep them around."

"You don't think it's worth keeping anyone around," Adahni replied bitterly, "In fact, I'm not even sure why you're here. Shouldn't you be out on your lonely path in life without the rest of us pathetic creatures here to bother you?"

He was silent a long moment.

"You're not pathetic," he recanted, "I... how did you leave it behind?"

"I didn't," Adahni replied, angry this time. As she spoke, she felt her voice take on his sardonic scowl, "Don't you think I will carry the corpse of who I was on my back as long as I live? How I flinch every time a man raises his hand over my shoulder? Turn my head away whenever anybody gets too close? Do you think that's going to go away? Are the scars going to miraculously heal? What about the fact that, even if I wanted to, I'm never going to be able to settle down, get married, and have a family? Even the things as basic as reproduction are lost to me. So no, _Kyrwan, _I didn't leave it behind."

He started back as though she had pushed him, nearly tumbling over. She grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him back up, glaring at him, "Look, kid, I know you've seen shit that'd make my hair curl, and don't think I don't appreciate that. Don't think I don't let shit go from you that I would backhand Qara so hard she saw stars for."

He looked at her a long moment. "I'm not a kid."

She smiled, the corner of her mouth bunching up her left cheek, "Yeah you are," she said, "You hunch your shoulders like a man twice you're age, but you're still a lad not yet past his nineteenth birthday."

"Actually it was last week," Bishop said, raising his eyebrows, "Day of Cas's wedding."

"How come you didn't tell anyone?"

"I got to spend forty minutes in the company of two beautiful women _- twins - _while simultaneously cuckolding that bastard Quarely... And then I got to stab you and only spend a few days in jail," Bishop said, "I figured it was best not to make a deal of it, eh?"

"Ugh," Adahni shuddered. She'd never had a sister, but the idea of being involved in something like that turned her stomach, "What do you have against Jem, anyway?"

She saw the ranger's features darken, and he shook his head as if to say, "Not now." She nodded. And then asked another question that had been haunting the back of her mind, and that she was just drunk and alone enough to ask.

"Why'd you kiss me?" she asked.

"We should go to bed," he said, by way of an answer.

"I should go to bed. Alone," Adahni said, "And so should you."

"With an attitude like that, you'll always be alone," Bishop said, "You've had three loves since I've known you... now one's dead and two are married. What does that tell you?"

"That I have very exacting standards?" she said, raising one eyebrow.

He chuckled, "That you have no self-respect," he said, "That you're not willing to go after what you want, that you're always putting them first."

"Isn't that what loving someone is?"

"Not so much that you lose yourself, lose track of what it is you want, that you're not willing to fight for what it is you need in life," he said.

She got up, unsteadily, and stumbled towards her room. She tripped over a couple of passed-out sailors and going sprawling. She made it to the barroom door on her hands and knees, and pulled herself to her feet. She looked to see that Bishop was still seated at the table, his head in his hands.

"Well come on, then," she said.

He looked up at her in surprise.

"Seriously?"

She paused for a moment, "Yeah."


	55. The Watchman and the Queen of Thieves

She awoke in the warm light of mid-afternoon with a pounding in her head and a ringing in her ears. She reached over and groped for her stash of Sand's all-purpose hangover-killer. _This is odd, _she thought, _I'm not on my usual side of the bed. _She looked down at herself. She was still wearing the shift she'd put on the night before, corset and small-clothes intact. _Thank gods I didn't do anything that stupid. _She sat up and surveyed her surroundings... the open wardrobe, where she had tossed the things Dayven had left behind... the smoldering fire in the hearth... the irregularly-shaped lump in bed next to... _oh shit. _Memories came rushing back to her, her bout with the bottle of whiskey, switching to ale and drinking the ranger under the... _the ranger. _She pulled back the covers to see him, sleeping soundly. Pulling them up, she saw that he, too, had not managed to get his clothes off. She breathed a sigh of relief, reached over him, and took a swig of the potion. Her headache faded, the ringing subsided. She poked the ranger in the shoulder.

"Mff," he grunted, opening one eye, "The hells do you want?"

"Here," she said, thrusting the bottle into his hand, "It'll make you feel halfway human."

Obligingly, he took a swig, grimacing. She saw his furrowed brow relax, and he sat up.

"So," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"So," she replied, smirking.

"Quite an action-packed roll in the sack, eh?"

"Not really," she said, "My keen powers of observation have led me to believe, by the very fact that the two of us are still fully clothed, and that the sheer volume of liquor you consumed would render you completely incapable of performing, that we did nothing more than pass out in the same bed."

Bishop lifted the covers and looked down, "Ah, of course," he said, "Breeches fully laced, too."

"Well then," she said, "No harm done, we can go back to speaking to each other in sneers and insults, and none will be the wiser. Provided, of course, you leap out the window and pretend you spent the night elsewhere."

"Is that really necessary?" he asked, annoyed, "I mean, we're here now, both fully functional, and..."

"And what?"

"Well, I thought maybe we could..."

"Ahhh, you think that I'm still down for a tumble, eh?" Adahni said.

"I was hoping," he said, unable to meet her gaze.

Adahni burst out laughing to see that the ranger's stony exterior belied that fact that he was blushing like a schoolgirl.

"I'm not in that line of work anymore," Adahni said, sighing, "Do I need to explain to you all the ways in which this would be wrong?"

"Considering your line of work, you spend an awful lot of time thinking about right and wrong," the ranger scowled.

"I'm not betraying Kyla," Adahni insisted.

"Kyla?" _This is the first time I've ever heard him utter his sister's name. _"Kyla's been dead for nigh on five years now," he said, his mouth setting in a hard line, "And considering how the two of us wound up, I'm glad for it. She can't see what I've become, what's become of you..."

"She knew what I'd become," Adahni sighed.

"But me..."

"The first time I laid eyes on you, you were about the slice the throat of another boy," Adahni said, "And then you propositioned me, you being all of eleven years old. I don't think Kyla would really have been that surprised."

"Like I could forget that," Bishop said, chuckling ruefully, "But she always believed the best of me, she did, despite her better judgment. I'm glad she's gone, I'm glad that she can't see us now... I'm glad she's just _not _anymore."

"Do you think we stop existing when we die?" Adahni said, "Do you really think that?"

"She was my sister," Bishop said, "She raised me... I know her. She was a much darker creature than you would imagine. Things had happened to her that... what'd you say last night... would make your hair curl. She stopped following any of the gods long before she met you."

Adahni nodded her agreement, "And the Wall of the Faithless takes its due."

"At least," Bishop said, "At least she no longer knows the pain of existence."

"Is that really all you think it is? Pain and then oblivion?"

Bishop nodded, and snorted, "Not like either of us has known anything else."

"I've known joy... I'm sure you have at some point."

"Well I was hoping to know it this morning," the ranger chuckled deviously.

"Gods damn," Adahni swore. She got up and walked over to her wardrobe, rummaging through the sack that had once belonged to her late husband. The ranger followd her over, wondering what she was doing. She took out a purse and thrust a few gold coins into Bishop's hand. "Here, take some of Dayven's gold and go get a whore."

The ranger narrowed his eyes at her, "I see, so that's all you think I'm after."

She looked at him sharply, her stomach sinking.

"I'm not in that line of work anymore, lad," she said, her voice husky, "Just like you're done stabbing people in the back, I'm done lying back and spreading my legs for anyone as can pay."

"Nobody is ever done stabbing others in the back," Bishop replied, "And I wasn't asking you to do it for anyone as can pay, I was asking you to do it for me."

"And certainly not for a lad I held sobbing in my arms when he was little more than a child," she said, the memory of that morning flooding back to her.

"I'm not that lad anymore," he said, looking at the floor, "But I see there's no convincing you, at least not right now."

"Or ever," she said, shaking her head.

"Ever's a long time," the ranger replied, smirking.

"You're not going to let this one go, are you," she said.

"The paladin and I have more in common than you'd think," he said, chuckling, "As much as it pains me to admit it."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, I will take my leave of you now, _my lady_," he sneered out the last two words, and in one fluid motion, leapt up to the windowsill, and dropped down into the alley below. Adahni stood there in a state of utter bafflement for a good ten minutes before a knock came on her door.

She opened it to see Neeshka standing there. She was dancing from one foot to the other, her tail twitching agitatedly from side to side.

"What's wrong, Neesh?" she asked, seeing the corners of the tiefling's mouth were turned slightly down, her eyes wide and red and frightened.

"I just heard word from Wolf," she said, "He told me that that old quack - Aldan? Aldaron?"

"Aldanon?"

"That's the one," Neeshka said, "He said he wanted to see us. I figured I'd go scope the place out before telling you about it..."

"Seeing if there's anything worth stealing."

"There's always something worth stealing," Neeshka said, "I've been working on some techniques lately - did you know you can hop rooftop to rooftop from here to the wall between Blacklake and the Merchant Quarter without ever touching the ground? Fascinating really - So I went there over the rooftops from the Merchant Quarter, figured if I slipped in and out without anyone noticing me I could observe a little and it would make everything easier once we went in there with all of us. I was perched behind the temple of Lathander in Blacklake, and I heard shouting."

"What happened?"

"They..." Neeshka's high-pitched voice faded and went hoarse, "There's been a break-in, there's watchmen there, but one of them is wounded, wounded bad, and they're keeping him as a hostage."

"Who are?"

"Some two-bit thieves, nobody I've ever met," Neeshka said, "The ones outside don't dare do anything, and he's just lying there all gray in the face and there was nothing I could do... he looked me right in the eye and I couldn't... I couldn't _do _anything." She fidgeted with her tail a little bit, a look of distress setting over her features.

"Let me guess which watchman it is," Adahni said, "The only one you seem to have a vested interest in seeing live?"

"That's not funny," Neeshka squealed angrily, "He's _your _friend, too, come on!"

Adahni nodded, and went to change into her armor. She couldn't help but let loose a chuckle. The image of the greatest thief in Neverwinter and the stalwart enforcer of justice together struck her as downright hilarious. Neeshka did have a penchant for exagerration, after all, and she doubted that it was quite as serious as she was imagining. "You know," Adahni said, slithering into her chainmail, "I never would have pegged him as your type. A bit old for you, is he?"

"Not that old," Neeshka scowled, "He's only thirty... younger than the paladin, anyway."

"Thirty!" Adahni exclaimed, "Must have at least ten years on you..."

"If you're trying to trick me into telling you how old I am, it won't work," Neeshka said.

"Well it just seems funny that it's never come up," Adahni replied. She buckled her rapier by her side, "When I first laid eyes on you I thought you couldn't be older than seventeen, and here in comes out that you were alive and fully grown during the entirety of the war, which would make you at least my age..."

"Addie, the man is _dying!_" Neeshka exclaimed, "Come on!"

"Of course," Adahni sighed, "Round up a crew, probably need to bring Sand and Shandra... she always wants to tag along. Find Khelgar, Bishop or Casavir, whichever you find first."

Neeshka snapped to attention and scampered off to find the others.


	56. What Happens in Blacklake

Adahni and Neeshka set off for the Blacklake District with Khelgar, Shandra, and a rather hungover Sand at their heels. Neeshka nearly ran the whole way, obliging the rest to adopt a funny little half walk half trot to keep up with her. They reached the gates in record time, and were at the gates to Aldanon's manse in a matter of minutes. Sure enough, a small rabble of city watchmen were standing just outside it, staring at the unfortunate Marshal, who was lying in a pool of his own blood on the flagstones of the sage's front garden.

"I said stay back!" a voice issued from the front door. Adahni saw that there were two miscreants standing over Cormick, and one of them was shouting at the watchmen, "Anyone steps in the yard, and we kill your Marshal!"

"Back, back, by the gods!" the commander of the watchmen. From the looks of him, he was seconds from retirement. His gloved hands shook as he waved off his subordinates, "I don't think they're bluffing! Marshal Cormick! How badly are you hurt, sir?"

"I'd be far worse," a voice which sounded vaguely like Cormick's, only weaker, declared, "If these imbeciles knew how to work that wand. Shot at me point blank and still couldn't hit a thing. Just rush 'em Sergeant, they're out of charges anyway!"

"No!" Neeshka exclaimed.

"Listen to the demon girl," the criminal who had spoken before advised them, "Us poor imbeciles got plenty o' charges left on this here wand, so keep your stinkin' distance!"

"Great," Adahni sighed, 'Why isn't anything ever easy?"

"Gods be good," the aged sergeant said, "But I think our luck has turned, boys. Lieutenant, we seem to be in a spot of trouble. It's a botched robbery, near as I can tell. The thieves were inside the house when Cormick knocked. Must have noticed that the old sage's wards were down and went to have a look. Poor fellow nevere stood a chance. They shot him with that wand of theirs and left him in the yard. Now they say they'll kill him if we come any closer. It's an impasse... and a sticky one at that."

"Cormick's a... friend," Adahni said, "Mind if I give it a go?"

"I've got no ego to bruise. I can walk a beat, catch a thief, or rescue a kitten from a tree, but when it comes to negotiations, I'm hardly any use," the sergeant replied.

"Another of you gutless hounds wants to have a word with us, eh?" the culprit shouted.

"I'm Addie Farishta, I'm with the watch," she said, approaching the situation slowly, "To whom am I speaking?"

"Name's Hewe," the man said. Upon closer inspection, she saw that he was not much younger than the sergeant, "This here's Gulver."

"Idiot!" his partner admonished him. He was younger, but had shaved his head bald, giving him the look of a monk gone bad. "What'd you tell her our names for?"

"Well she told us hers!" Hewe protested.

"Farishta..." Gulver mused, "That's the bitch who cleared out the docks! The one who did for Moire and Barlowe.... oh gods."

"Ah, so you know what I did to Moire! Do you think you're tougher than her, then?"

"I hear you caught her with her breeches down," Hewe taunted, "Seems to me any fool can get lucky."

"Hear that, Hewe?" Gulver said, the fear in his voice receding, "Bitch'll go easy on us, just like she did for poor Moire."

"No deal, bitch," Hewe called, "We want a full pardon and free passage out of this city. You give us that and your Marshal lives."

Adahni glanced at Neeshka, who was fiddling with the buckle on her belt nervously and chewing her lower lip to shreds.

"Not going to happen," the sergeant declared, "You can tell them what you want, but we don't let criminals walk, not in this district!"

Adahni rolled her eyes. Even well into his seventies, the man in charge of Blacklake was putting his foot down.

"Well what'll it be, Farishta? You givin' us a pardon, or do we burn the good Marshal!"

"Sure," she lied, "You'll have your pardon."

"Hear that Hewe? They promised!" Gulver said. His voice betrayed something like relief, and Adahni got the sense that he had been roped along into the scheme against his better judgment, "Come on, let's go before they change their minds! I don't wanna die for Old Scab."

"Aye, Gulver, we've hardly a choice. Hey! We're leaving the wand and coming out, so you tell them hounds to keep their steel to themselves."

"Right... we'll just be on our way."

The two of them strode, bold as brass, through the gates, only to be stopped by the watchmen waiting there.

"Hey! Hey! What's the jape?" Hewe protested, his arms locked behind his back by a burly cop, "You said we'd go free!"

"She did," the sergeant shrugged, "We didn't."

"You double-crossin' helldogs!" Hewe exclaimed, "I ever get out of this, I'll come and find you, I swear I will! Every last one o' you!"

"Yeah, good luck with that," Adahni scoffed. She went towards the house. Neeshka had beat her there, and was kneeling by the Marshal's side.

"Heh," Cormick was wheezing, "You should have just charged those stinking amateurs." His face was alarmingly gray, and she could see broad wounds covering his torso where the two rogues had laid open his armor.

"How bad is it?" Neeshka asked.

"Takes a bit more'n that to kill a Harborman," Cormick said, putting his hand over the tiefling's. Only Khelgar looked surprised by this.

"So'd you see anything?" Adahni asked, strictly business.

"Hostages," he coughed, "Three or four, and more thieves... a dozen or more... back of the house."

"Hang in there, Cormick," she said, "You'll pull through."

She went up to the door and, finding it unlocked, pushed it open. All but Neeshka followed her, and the tiefling rolled her eyes and came after them, reluctantly leaving Cormick's side.

"All right, kids," Adahni said, "You know what to do."

Indeed they did. As Cormick had said, the house was teeming with the sort of garden variety thug that had once ruled the docks; all swagger and no swing. The small band fought their way into the cellar, where a few of Aldanon's staff were imprisoned in the corner between some vicious-looking characters and the wall. She shouted a greeting to them as she impaled one of their captors on her rapier, and Sand made short work of the burly goon that had, evidently, been ordered to kill them upon the arrival of any law enforcement.

"You must be Adahni Farishta," one of the servants said, "My name is Harcourt. Master Aldanon was looking for you... before the thieves came. It's something we discovered in the archives, a matter of the greatest urgency!"

Adahni had wondered, when they first arrived, at the chaotic state of the library, which she would have thought Aldanon would have kept in order. This question answered, she nodded, "What is it then?"

"We had been researching the silver shards at the Archive. We found an old reference to a shard in Neverwinter, discovered shortly after the war with the King of Shadows. This shard was held by a fraternity of lords, wealthy men who dabbled in matters arcane. According to the tome, only four still lived... Lords Dalren, Brennick, Hawkes, and Tavorick."

She looked at the young man again with more respect. She had figured him for a gardener or porter or something, but he seemed to be some sort of research assistant. "You mean the men that have been turning up dead?"

"All but Tavorick," Harcourt replied, "We reasoned that the lords had been passing the shard from one to the next, just ahead of the demons. If our guess is correct, then Lord Tavorick has the shard, and he is in considerable danger. Aldanon tried to send word to him, but the man is stubborn as they come. He urged me to go away, and that I shouldn't return until I was 'younger and female,' were his words, I believe."

"Lovely," Shandra snorted, "We should tell Lord Nasher now before the demons return!"

"Wait, I want to know what happened here," Adahni said.

"The thieves came straight to the door, dressed respectably enough. They said they bore a message from you, so Master Aldanon lowered the wards... It was chaos after that. They gathered us together and herded us down here. Two others trundled the Master out of the house. They returned shortly after with a heavy pouch of gold, so I presume they traded the Master to whomever hired them in the first place."

"Any idea who that might be?"

"Regrettably no. They were a sullen lot, altogether, and the leader did not seem to confide in many of his men."

"If they were hired to kidnap Aldanon, why did the thieves stay in the house?"

"My guess is that 'Old Scab' liked the look of the Master's treasure, so he stayed here a while longer than he should have. I don't believe that was part of the original plan," Harcourt explained, pointing to one of the mangled corpses on the ground.

"All right, then," she said, "We'll send some guards down to sort out this mess."

They made their way back up the stairs, and out into the street where the sergeant was there waiting for them.

"If my ears heard true, that was some fight in there!" he said gruffly, "Name's Brockenburn, by the way, and I'm glad to have met you."

"Yes it was, Master Brockenburn," Adahni sighed, "You should get in there, the hostages need your help. How's Cormick?"

"He'll mend," Brockenburn said, smiling slightly, "All right, boys, you know what to do!"

"So what now?" Khelgar asked.

"I suppose we go to Nasher," Adahni said, "Come on, then."

"Well if there's going to be demons," Neeshka said, "I don't think I need to be around."

"If you want to go see your blue-cloaked lover, just say so," Sand sneered, "It's not as though you're much use in a battle anyway."

"I'm not much use in a battle, you pointy-eared wretch?" Neeshka squealed angrily, "I didn't see you dodging swords!"

"Why don't you go dodge Cormick's sword for awhile... I'm sure you're fail eventually," Sand said. Adahni suppressed a giggle.

"Go on, Neesh," she said, covering her mouth to hide her smirk, "You're right... if there are demons around, we're going to want the Paladin... and you know how he makes you itch."

"Fine!" Neeshka said, putting on a show of reluctance, "I'll just be going then. I'll be at the headquarters in the Merchant district if you want me."

Sand opened his mouth to let loose some parting salvo, but Adahni put a hand on his narrow arm to stop him. He rolled his steely blue eyes at her, but let the tiefling go without further comment.

"Come on, then," Khelgar said, "Let's go speak with Nasher, and then go back to the inn and get ourselves together. I have a feeling that whatever happens at Tavorick's mansion is going to require more muscle and wit than I have about me today."

"Most things require more wit than you have about you on any given day," Sand declared, happy that he had acquired a target for his insults.

"Shut it, elf," Khelgar growled, turning his back on the wizard and starting up the steep path towards Castle Never, "I could snap you over my knee, and all the pretty blue missiles in the world couldn't save your sorry hide."

"I think I like you, Ironfist," Sand said, following him, "You're clever, in a clumsy, ox-like way..."

This time through, the grand hallway at the castle wasn't nearly as frightening as it had been the last time she had been there on trial for mass murder. She breezed past noblemen and women who barely gave her a second glance. Nasher was slouched in his throne, his eyes half closed, as a blue-cloaked member of the Nine gave him a long, droning report on something to do with equipment for members of the Many-Starred Cloaks. He seemed to perk up a bit when he saw Adahni striding down the corridor and greeted her jovially as she approached the throne.

"I am glad you have come. It seems one event follows another – the trial with Luskan has been settled, but now I hear from the good Sergeant Brockenburn, Aldanon has been kidnapped!" Nasher exclaimed.

Adahni was a bit taken aback, surprised that Nasher concerned himself with such things, but answered, "That is correct... and we have news of the murdered nobles as well."

"Explain," Nasher commanded.

"It seems the murdered lords were in possession of a silver shard. If reason is to be believed, it should now be in the hands on one Lord Tavorick."

"Ah, Cyran, that old lecher," Nasher said, laughing softly, "Still, I will not allow him to suffer the same fate as the other. Report to his estate as soon as you can. I am sending Captain Ballard and a detachment of guards to meet you there. It's in the northeast corner of this district, near the cemetery. Do everything in your power to protect him."

"Yes, Lord Nasher," Adahni said, her best imitation of what a proper squire of Neverwinter ought to sound like. She gave a perfunctory bow, and turned to leave.

"And lieutenant!" he said as she made her way down the hall, "Watch you don't put your behind within arm's reach of the man!"

"I'll keep that in mind, sir."


	57. Down in the Ground where the Dead Men Go

Back at the Flagon, Khelgar insisted that he was simply too tired to continue on. He had been acting like this lately. Adahni had thought, when he had come raging into the Temple of Tyr like a charging boar, that he had come through the larger part of his grief and would soon be back to his old self. She had, however, been mistaken. While he no longer spent the majority of his days moping or drinking himself into a stupor, when he did concede to accompanying her on one mission or another, he would retire immediately upon their return, no matter if the task had taken a few minutes or all morning.

"What's with him?" Shandra asked.

"Long story," Adahni said, "He'll be fine, someday."

"What happened?" the farmer pressed her.

"He found out about the death of the woman he loved," Adahni said, "It's been a couple of months now... I thought he would have recovered..."

Shandra nodded knowingly, "Poor fellow," she said sympathetically, "I don't blame him. I'm impressed he's been putting on a show for this long."

"You don't think it's been too long for him to be sulking like this?" Adahni asked.

"No," Shandra said, looking at her in surprise, "I thought you of all people would know the time it takes to grieve properly..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Adahni asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing, nothing," Shandra sighed, backing off a bit, "What, is it your time of the month or something?"

Adahni chose, wisely she thought, to let that comment go. Casavir had been pried from his wife's side to come along. As the ranger saw them about to leave, he had insisted on accompanying them as well. It seemed that for all his disdain for the paladin, he was eager to be involved in anything that involved him. Adahni did not meet his eyes, but didn't protest. Sand, who took great delight in the sparring matches between the two men, rubbed his little hands together with glee as they took off back towards Blacklake.

Tavorick's mansion was, indeed, next to the cemetery and across from the Collector's now collection-less house. As they approached the grand front entrance, Adahni caught wind of an argument that seemed to be occurring just outside the gate. She scanned the area, and seeing that no demons had yet arrived, stopped to listen in.

"I told you to go home, Kyli!" one of those involved whined. She was a girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen, with brown hair cut short around her shoulders. The object of her ire was a little child, maybe seven or eight, who was standing defiantly before her.

"No!" the child squealed, "You're not supposed to be going into the graveyard. I'll tell Father!"

"You little rat!" the teenager wailed, "You wouldn't!"

Bishop suppressed a snicker, as did Sand.

"She'll ruin everything," the teenager's companion, a blackhaired wench who couldn't have been older than sixteen, "Shut her up, Lisbet, or I will."

"So, should I play watchman? Or see how this plays out?" Adahni asked her companions slyly.

"Watchman," Bishop declared. Sand and Shandra nodded, while Casavir seemed to be doing his best to distance himself from the lot of them,

"Why, I'm surprised at you!" she exclaimed, "All right, long arm of the law it is!"

"What's going on here?" Adahni asked, striding right into the middle of the situation.

"It's nothing," the one called Lisbet said, stomping her foot childishly, "We're just trying to get rid of my little sister."

"That's right," the blackhaired girl said, "So go away, and mind your own business."

"It isn't nothing!" the little girl insisted, "They're going into that old crypt with a bunch of boys! And Father told Lisbet not to?"

It was all Adahni could do to keep her face straight, "What exactly are you doing in a crypt with boys?" she asked. She heard a giggle escape from Shandra's mouth.

"Raven," sighed another girl, of about the same age, who had been hanging back, "Don't invite her! She'll steal all the boys!"

"She will!" Bishop called, "Watch out for that one!"

"Savanna, you're an idiot," the blackhaired girl, appropriately the one called 'Raven,' replied, "Nobody's inviting her anywhere! Let's go."

"And don't let me catch you following us, Kyli," Lisbet warned, "Or I'll let Raven hurt you."

Without another word, the adolescent cabal stalked away and disappeared into one of the large crypts that were set into the hill behind the cemetery.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Kyli called defiantly after them, "Them, I mean..." she said, turning her attention to Adahni, "Not you. They're so stupid. I'll never be like that, never!"

"Sure you won't, kid," Bishop commented.

"So what is it they're doing in there, anyway?" asked Adahni.

"Hanging around with boys. Kissing, probably. Lisbet thinks I don't know anything ,but I'm a lot smarter than stupid Savanna. She never comes home anymore, and Father always sits up and waits, and she doesn't even care! I hate her!"

"Well, you know teenagers are usually going to do what they please..." Adahni said, "But who are those friends of hers? There's something off about them..."

"Raven's some merchant's daughter," Kyli said, "I think, anyway Savanna's uncle is one of the Nine, but Savanna's so dumb she thinks she's related to Lord Nasher. But she's just stupid. Raven's mean, though. One time she hit me when Lisbet wasn't looking, and she said she'd cut my throat if Lisbet would just let her."

"All right, kid," Adahni said, "Here's the deal. I'll go find your sister, and I'll make Raven look really stupid in the process. How does that sound?"

Kyli's scowl turned into an impish little grin, "But what about the boys? They're all dark and depressing and mean, just like Raven. They dress like it's somebody's funeral and moan about how pointless everything is."

"Don't worry about me," Adahni said.

"I hate the way those boys look at her."

"You'll figure that part out soon enough. The whole woe-is-me thing, I'm not so sure about," Adahni said, "Either way, I'll bring her back safe."

"Hnh," Shandra grunted, "Must be all that traveling with Neeshka that made you so good with kids."

"They went into our granddad's crypt, the middle one with the name "Bryce" on it. That's where they always go. I think Lisbet stole the key from Father. Just please don't hurt her, ok?"

"Yes, ma'am," Adahni said, snapping a mock salute at the little girl.

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" Casavir asked, "We were ordered to go directly to Tavorick's estate..."

"I've got a feeling about this one," Adahni said, "I think the two might be related. Stupid kids or not, mucking about among the dead rarely results in anything good. Anyway, I thought putting out the raging fires of teenage hormones was something you paladins would be good at."

To her surprise, the paladin smiled at her joke. His marriage had only served to make him stodgier as he spent fewer and fewer nights in the company of his companions. Adahni had found herself getting rather put out with him more often than she usually did. It was nice to know that he was still capable of the occasional lightheartedness.

"It'll only take a few minutes, anyway," she said, "Come on, we'll make short work of this, and do the same to whatever demons come to plague Tavorick."

"Very well," Casavir said, "You do seem to know what you're doing..."

_Or I'm just faking it really, really well, _she added mentally. They went to the crypt marked 'Bryce,' which the adolescents had left brazenly open, and descended into the darkness below.

The initial room in the crypt was well-lit, the teenagers having put torches in the sconces and started fires in all of the braziers which adorned the rooms. The leaping flames gave the place an appropriate eerie feel, the faces of the angel statues set here and there along the walls appearing to be moving in the flickering light. The room itself was populated by several young couples, two of them appearing to be eating each others faces in the corner, the rest only talking. They were noticed first by a girl with magenta hair, probably the work of some magical dye or another.

"Eek!" she yelped, "You aren't supposed to be here! Who invited you?"

"Is this seriously what you're doing?" Adahni asked, looking disdainfully at the couples, but knowing full well that, had she lived in a city like Neverwinter and were ten or so years younger, she probably would have been among them, "You know there are inns in this town... with rooms."

"You're not our parents," the young man holding her hand declared, "We can do whatever we want. None of your business, anyway."

"This is a private party," another youth echoed, "Nobody invited you!"

They were interrupted by a long, high-pitched shriek that echoed threateningly from deeper in the crypt. After all the long months of nearly weekly exposure to the undead in areas similarly creepy, Adahni still felt the hair on the back of her head prickle and stand at attention.

"Someone is in danger," Casavir said.

"Thanks, Sir Pointing Out of Obvious," Bishop said, "We wouldn't have figured that one out on our own..."

"Shut it, ranger," Shandra snapped, "We should get the kids out of the crypt – now."

"You heard the lady," Adahni said, "Move out."

"You can't tell us what to do," the boy who had first spoken said, "It's our friends in there! We're staying right here!"

For a split second, Adahni thought about slapping him across the face and threatening him with worse if he didn't obey, but decided it probably would not be worth the effort, "Suit yourself," she said, "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Casavir was already halfway across the room and opening a moldering door set into the back of it. He wrenched it open, and dashed in, quickly followed by the rest of the companions. In the room beyond that, they found two more young girls, all clad in black, huddling in a corner away from several rotting, animated corpses. In the five seconds or so before Casavir charged them, it occurred to Adahni that they didn't seem to be fighting... indeed, the undead seemed to be standing there, making no attempt on the life of the two girls. Then, of course, she was hit from behind by one dessicated hand, and she launched out her sword and joined the fray.

"Vera..." one of the girls said, looking at the group curiously, "I think they think they're rescuing us. What do we do now?"

This Vera, however, did not look amused. She looked from the now inert corpses to Adahni and back again, "The thralls... they're all dead. You slaughtered them! Do you have any idea how long it took to raise those things?"

"You have got to be kidding me," Adahni sighed in disgust, "Amateur necromancers! What's next?"

"Raise them?" Shandra echoed her incredulously, "You... created these things? What is wrong with kids these days?"

"My fault, Vera," the troublemaker from the other room declared. Adahni glanced back to see the whole lot of them piling in the door, "She came in after Lisbet. But it was only the six of us and I didn't think she'd have a chance against your, uh... friends. The dead ones I mean."

"You _children _don't have any idea what you're dealing with here. Don't do anything stupid," Adahni snarled.

"You're the stupid one," one of the young necromancers declared airily, "Rushing into rescue poor little Lisbet? I bet her rich daddy sent you here. You don't scare us one bit."

"Kill us," the one called Vera said, "And we'll rise again in Shadow. Our King promises."

_Good answer, _Adahni thought, another piece of the puzzle falling into place. She glanced at Casavir, who nodded his approval, her previous conjecture that this business was somehow related to the bigger picture proving true.

"That's right!" one of the other girls agreed, "He promises!"

"She can't handle all of us," Vera said, "We'll give her corpse to Arval and he'll bind her soul to serve the King. I bet he'll let us watch!"

"You have no idea what I can handle," Adahni said.

"His darkness is truth..." one of the girls recited, "His Shadow will cleanse the world."

The group advanced menacingly towards them.

"Cas," Adahni said, drawing her blade, "I assure you I'm going to feel incredibly guilty about what I'm about to do."

"I think it may be unavoidable," the paladin assured her, tossing his mace from hand to hand.

"Will the two of you stop moralizing?" Sand demanded, launching a shower of blue missiles at them.

Indeed, there was no time for moralizing. Considering their tender age, the group had a couple of adept sorcerers, something she had not counted on, and she had her companions emerged from the fight a bit more banged up than they had planned on.

"They were old enough to know better," Shandra said, "Come on, let's go."

The amateur necromancers had, evidently, been busy in the hours or days leading up to the confrontation, as the rooms beyond were swarming with their thralls. Fortunately, they were not skilled enough to create thralls that were anything but a nuisance to the seasoned adventurer, and soon their handiwork lay in pieces on the cold flagstones of the tomb, along with the corpses of several men who appeared, in the few minutes or so before they were slain, to be a bit older than the rabble that had greeted them, and were dressed in the black robes of clerics rather than the cast-offs of noblemen.

In the deepest, darkest, part of the tomb, they found what they were looking for. A group of men in robes stood in a circle around Raven and Savanna, the two girls who had stated the whole mess.

"Oh, gods!" she heard Savanna groan, "It's her. What do we do?"

"Shut your mouth, Savanna," Raven commanded, "You sound like a scared little girl. If we die, we'll rise again in Shadow – you heard what Arval said."

"Do you really think that?" Adahni asked.

"I... I don't know," Savanna said, looking from her to Raven.

"Don't listen to her, Savanna," Raven barked, "Think about Lisbet and me. We're your friends, remember?"

"What kind of friends would ask you to do this crap?" Adahni asked.

"She's right, Raven!" Savanna said after a long pause, "I don't want to die! I just wanted to meet boys – normal boys – not these weirdos who wear makeup and dress in black!"

"Savanna, you stupid cow," Raven snarled, "You take that back!"

"No!" Savanna all but screamed, "I'm sick of you pushing m around, Raven! You're not even half as pretty as Lisbet, that's why Arval picked her instead of you!"

Behind her, Adahni heard Bishop do a dead-on impression of a cat's angry meow.

"You want to die with her, Savanna?" Raven asked, her voice soft and dangerous, "Fine! You'll be much smarter as a ghast, anyway..."

Adahni had to give the black-haired bitch one thing – that she hit her friend with a closed fist and no nails. Casavir leapt in to the blond's defense, and soon the small room had erupted to a mess of spells and blades flashing in the firelight. When it was all over, Savanna stood, dazed, over the body of her friend.

"Oh gods!" she squeaked softly, "Raven's... she's dead isn't she."

"Calm down," Adahni said, "Can you get yourself home?"

"Y-yes," Savanna stammered, "I... I mean we – I mean, yes..."

"Good. Tell Kyli that I'm going to find her sister."

"I'll tell her, I promise. And I'll never come back to this graveyard I swear!"

"Not alive, anyway," Bishop muttered morbidly. Savanna, however, didn't hear him, as she had already bolted for the exit.

The sight that greeted them in the next and, apparently, deepest chamber of the crypt was unsettling to say the least. Several more of the black-robed clerics stood around the fresh corpse of a woman in a red dress. At their head was a handsome blond man in his early twenties, who was gesticulating wildly and appeared to be preaching a sermon.

"May the King of Shadows forgive you," he intoned, "Embrace him, and know light for the illusion that it is!"

"Don't spout philosophy at me," Adahni spat, "Light... shadow... it's all just words and posturing anyway..."

Two piercing blue eyes fell on her as the man approached her, and put both hands on her shoulders compassionately, "I pity you, truly, if your view of the universe is so... jaded. I prefer to surround myself with the young, as you can see. They hunger for truth and challenge indifference. You, though, you are not so old, yourself. Has life been so cruel as to embitter you before your time? Ah well. Perhaps death will be kinder..."

"Life's embittered me all right," Adahni said, "But it's also given me a mean right hook."

"A what?" the man said, slightly confused.

"One of these," she said, and delivered the promised blow, the metal edges of her gauntlets cutting into one smooth cheek and sending him reeling.

"You know, Addie," Bishop said, loosing an arrow as the cabal closed in around them, "Sometimes I'm not so sure about you... but then there are days like these!"

He shut his mouth as one of the cleric brought a cudgel down on the crown of his head and he crumpled to the ground. Instinctively, Adahni leapt to his defense, as Casavir went to dispatch the leader of the pack, who Adahni assumed was the 'Arval' that everyone kept referring to.

They found Lisbet cowering in a corner after the last of them had fallen and Bishop had been roused with several slaps to the face and one of Sand's healing potions.

"No!" Lisbet sobbed, "Keep away from me! He isn't dead! I can bring him back..." She raised her hands and began to chant, and before anyone could stop her, she had finished her incantation.

The firelight suddenly darkened, and the room appeared to fill with shadow. Adahni stepped back, and was hit from behind by an arm which appeared wispy, but the blow was as solid as they came. Blindly, she laid about with her blade, and did her best to dodge blow after blow. She was suddenly very, very glad that she had brought along the paladin who, after a moment's prayer, flooded the room with a piercing light and froze the shadows in place, making them easy targets to dispatch.

"It... it didn't work," Lisbet said, confused, "He's really gone..."

"No, Lisbet, I think it worked fine. Or did you miss the shadows and the fighting and the killing?"

"No you don't understand," Lisbet insisted, "The ritual didn't work. I wasn't strong enough. Those shadows were just... echoes. Arval and the others... they should have been joined with the King of Shadows. Don't you see? That's why we made all these symbols, all these markings... I said the words, but I... I was too weak."

"Or perhaps your heart wasn't in it," Shandra suggested gently.

"I... I don't know," Lisbet said, furrowing her brow, "Arval said he loved me. He said we'd be united in Shadow, joined with this beautiful ancient being..."

_Stupid girl, _Adahni thought, _You'd have traded your soul for a kiss and some pretty words. _As she opened her mouth to say these words, though, she remembered a time when she would have done the same... when she _had _done the same.

"Arval might have stretched the truth a bit," she said.

"Those words I said... they'll have raised everyone in the crypt. All the people will be waiting for us as shadows."

"Then you'd best wait here," Casavir said, sternly but not unkindly, "Until we've cleared the way."

"Are you mad?" Lisbet said, stamping her foot, "I'm not staying here alone! I'll be a lot safer with you than I'll be here, with a bunch of dead people!"

"If what she's saying is true," Casavir said, "We should search this room; there may be something we can bring to Lord Nasher."

"What, like this?" Sand asked, producing a small volume from one of his voluminous sleeves.

"Where'd you get that?" Adahni demanded.

"Desk over there," Sand said, gesturing, "While you were busy."

"You mean... when we were buy fighting a bunch of shadows that would have been much easier to take care of had you been, oh, I don't know, _helping _us?" Adahni demanded.

"Well you seem to have taken care of it yourself quite well," Sand said, raising his eyebrows, "I don't see any shadows."

"Fine," Adahni sighed, "Let's get moving. Those shadows aren't going to kill themselves..."

The fight back to the surface could really have been worse, she reasoned, had Lisbet been a more apt conjurer of the undead. They moved from room to room, Sand reading aloud from the journal he had found in Arval's desk, while crafting spells with his free hand and loosing them about the room. As they approached the door to the surface, Lisbet hung back rather than go up the stairs.

"Arval was a liar," she declared, "Those shadows... there wasn't anything beautiful about the,"

"You were deceived by a handsome face and pretty lies, and believe you me, you wouldn't have been the first girl to be so used," Adahni sighed, "But... see that you remember the lesson."

"I won't forget," Lisbet said, "I promise."

"She's a wise girl if she learned that so quickly," Shandra said, "We should all be so lucky."

Adahni nodded, and stepped from the darkness of the tomb to the blinding daylight that awaited them.


	58. An Embarassing Way to Die

Kyli was appropriately grateful to have her sister back, but just as quick to run along, leaving the companions conveniently right outside the door to Tavorick's estate. Two burly watchmen were waiting there, apparently expecting them.

"Oy there, who're you?" the first, a black-haired and broad-shouldered man in his thirties, "What's yer business?"

"Aw, shut up, Guff... that's Adahni Farishta or I'm half troll!" his blond companion replied, "You'll have to pardon my comrade, your ladyship. We started as watch-hounds, you see, and there's nothing a watch-hound likes better than the sound of his own voice, 'specially when it's tellin' folk to 'Halt!' and 'State your business!'"

"Don't worry about it," Adahni waved him off, "Where's Ballard?"

"Old Black Ballard's waiting for you inside, Squire, right through the door," he said, "Name's Wetherly, by the way," he said, turning his attention to Shandra, "Eldryn Wetherly. With a 'y.'"

"She's not interested," Sand declared stridently, opened the door, and walked through into the grand hallway just inside.

"I was just being friendly-like!" Wetherly called after them.

The interior, while finely decorated, reminded Adahni of a fortress, with two heavy oak doors between her and the main hall. Once inside, she saw a small band of watchmen, standing in conversation with an aged nobleman that could only have been Tavorick himself. He didn't look like an old lecher, as Nasher had called him. This is, of course, until Adahni laid eyes on the pretty brunette standing by his side.

"I'm sorry m'lord," one of the watchmen said, "But the girl must leave."

"Oh come now," Tavorick said. His voice was raspy like autumn leave skittering over cobblestones in the wind, "Look! Pretty girl like that would keep any man alive and well, even a spotty old wart like me. I mean, that is what Nasher wants, correct? Keep me from dropping dead?"

"Lord Nasher is concerned about m'lord's well being, in light of the recent death of m'lord's associates."

"Bah!" Tavorick scoffed, "If Nasher cared about my well being he'd buy me a potion of youth. Failing that, he'd send me a harem... eighty-four girls, one for each year I've been alive!"

He was met with several heads, all shaking 'no' at once.

"Soldiers," Tavorick sighed, "Melia, my dear I insist that you come back and play for me again. The night after next, perhaps?"

"M'lord is very sweet," Melia said softly, "I'd be honored."

"Ugh," Shandra grunted softly, "Don't want to think about what instrument she was playing for him."

"Thanks for the image, Jerro," Bishop groaned.

"I said I _didn't _want to think about it," Shandra said.

"Squire Adahni Farishta?" the watchman who had been speaking called, "Captain Andrey Ballard, at your command. If you don't mind me saying," he said, stepping closer and giving her a small bow, "It's an honor to serve with you. My men and I were there for your trial by combat. Warmed a lot of veterans' hearts to see your friend rout that Luskan dog."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Adahni said, drawing back a bit, "But I have to point out that Lorne was a harborman, just like me, and Marshal Cormick."

"I meant no offense, Squire... I had no idea. But if Lorne was one of ours, that just makes Luskan's crime the greater, at least from where I'm standing. As for the matter at hand, I've already made an initial sweep of the house, secured the outer doors, and billeted my men on the second floor. We're five in number, and all proven men."

"I think Addie would like them to prove their manhood in some other way before the night's out," Bishop murmured softly.

"I think Addie would like you to shut the fuck up," Adahni hissed back at him.

"The quiet one with the bow is Comely Finn. Doesn't say much, but he's killed more Luskans than any of us with those arrows of his."

Finn, pale and, as his name suggested, quite handsome, smiled and bowed.

"My sergeant is Deorwin, called Graylocks. Like a father to the boys, and deadly with an axe."

Deorwin snapped a salute.

"Guff and Wetherly you've already met. I'll be bringing them inside and locking down the front door when night falls. By your leave, I'd like to barricade all the exits as well."

"I trust your judgment, Captain," Adahni said.

"I'll send Finn and Deorwin to gather some tables and such. The old man won't miss them. This place has rooms that haven't been touched in decades, perhaps more. After you've sent the old man upstairs, we'll get underway."

Adahni remembered Nasher's warning. "All right, I'll deal with Tavorick. Just do me a favor, Cas, and stay between him and Shandra and me. And Sand... he kind of looks like a girl from behind."

"What's this? More of you? Nasher thinks and army's going to stop me from dropping dead?"

"Adahni Farishta, my lord," she said, "I've been sent to keep you from harm."

"Well good for Nasher!" Tavorick exclaimed, peering at her, "He ought to send more women to guard me. Hells, sack all the men and hire an army of pretty ladies. City Watch would be a good deal more popular, I guarantee it."

"Until they're all on their monthlies at the same time," Bishop said, "Then the city would be in flames before anyone knew what was going on."

"Ignore him," Adahni said, "Who was that woman I saw earlier?"

"What, Melia? She's one of Ophala's girls from the Mask. Comes and visits from time to time, reminds me what it' like to have a lady in the house."

Something struck Adahni as extremely fishy about this statement. While she knew girls who worked the barroom often did make house-calls, Melia certainly did not strike her as a working girl.

"Lovely girl, Melia," Tavorick sighed, "Plays the harp like a songbird..."

He droned on about the girl, and women in general for a few more minutes before Adahni was able to get a word in edgewise. "Perhaps you should go upstairs, m'lord."

"Shoo the old dotard away, eh? I suppose I must smell of boiled cabbage... I'll be upstairs in my chambers, if you or your pretty blonde friend there would care to join me. In fact I think perhaps it'd be best if you both came, better protection if there's two of you!"

"We'll make sure you're well protected, sir," Adahni said, trying to keep from laughing, and watched as he made his slow and unsteady way up the stairs and shut the door behind him, "Ballard, send two of your men to bed with Tavorick. If its protection he wants, he'll get it."

Ballard chuckled softly, "All right, you heard the lady. Deorwin, Finn, make sure his lordship is safe."

"Yes sir," Deorwin said, smirking, and he and Finn made their way up the stairs.

At that point, there wasn't much to do but sit and wait. If she had been the one in charge of the whole operation, Adahni would have pulled out a flask of whiskey and passed the time that way. Somehow, though, she thought perhaps Ballard might not approve. Bishop, however, was a man of deep pockets, and produced a deck of cards, and the six of them seated themselves on the floor.

"I don't like the smell of that air," Bishop commented. Outside the door, Wetherly and Guff were arguing about something inane, their voices muffled by the wood of the barricades.

"You're just saying that because you're losing," Shandra said, "Lay down your cards, I'll have the shirt off your back before the night's out."

"You'd like that wouldn't you, Jerro?" Bishop said, grinning impishly, "But no... I don't like that smell at all."

"I smell it too," Sand said, furrowing his brows, "And Khelgar's not here to deliver one of his epic silent-but-deadlies, so I imagine it might have something to do with..."

"Squire!" Guff's voice echoed as he and Wetherly hurried up to the group, "A horde of little demons! They burst through the front hall and forced us back!"

"Aye, and something else, too, back behind the rest. Whatever it is, it's big!"

"Must be Bishop's mother, come for us at last," Adahni muttered, scrambling to her feet and affixing her shield to her arm. She had just enough time to do this when, in a flash of unholy light, they found themselves beset on all sides by dozens of little flying demons, squawking and scrabbling and emitting little bursts of flame. She stayed back by Wetherly and Bishop, both armed with bows, keeping the closer demons away from them as they picked off the ones further away.

To her frustration, she and her companions were forced to do more rescuing of the guardsmen than anything else. Guff and Wetherly were brave souls, to be sure, but neither was terribly bright, and it didn't occur to either that perhaps striding right up to an angry succubus and whacking it with a halberd wasn't the best thing to do with a bleeding hole in ones chest. Casavir was rendered useless, having to run between the two of them, patching them up. Ballard, Adahni observed gratefully, was a little more graceful in his fighting style, knowing when it was time to retreat for a moment and swallow a potion, leaving the kill to someone else.

In the heat of battle, from far off upstairs, Adahni heard the rasping scream of an elderly man. She sank her rapier into the heart of one of the Erinyes, the female demons that followed the mephits and succubi out into the hall, and darted up the stairs to see what was the matter.

She found Deorwin and Finn fending off a few more mephits – the little flying buggers – but all in all the demon infestation on the top floor was nothing compared to down below.

"Horrible beasts appeared out of nowhere! Just came shrieking out of the dark!" Tavorick said, his hands jumping uselessly as he looked about nervously.

"I've had nights like that," Adahni said, "So, what do we do next?"

"My family's crypt... we can access it from downstairs, there are all sorts of wards on the door! We might be safe there!" Tavorick said, his eyes lighting up.

"Just what I always wanted, another night spent in a tomb," Bishop groaned.

"If you don't stop whining I'll see that you wind up in one more permanently," Adahni growled, thoroughly put off with Bishop's comments by this point.

Back at the bottom of the stairs, the demons seemed to have been fended off, and Ballard and his other two men were patching themselves up on the staircase.

"Lord Tavorick!" Ballard exclaimed, "Good to see you alive."

"Even better to be so, Captain," Tavorick responded, smiling benignly.

"The demons are keeping their distance, it's as if they're waiting for us to move... and I caught a glimpse of the one Guff spied at the door. He's hanging back, giving orders. He's the source of the stench too, you can trust in that.."

"We're heading for the crypt," Adahni said, "Funnel them through, make sure only a few at a time can get to us. Might have to fight our way there, but hopefully it makes things easier in the long run."

"I suppose it could work," Ballard said, "We might have to fight our way through them first, though!"

She followed his gaze to the new troop of demons that had, evidently, heard them plotting and decided it would be a good time to remount the attack. This time, Adahni didn't let the men make up their own mind.

"Finn! Wetherly! Bishop! On the stairs, bows out!" she shouted, "Cas, Ballard, Shandra, rush them! Sand... do whatever it is you do! And Guff, for the love of all the Gods keep your bleeding self out of the fray!"

She herself joined the charge, tumbling in and out, doing as much damage as she could. Under her command, she saw, nobody got seriously hurt... the only ones within enough of a range to take a wallop were wearing heavy armor, and except for a few nasty bruises, the band making its way to the crypt was not in much worse shape than they had been making it down the stairs.

"I think I might be getting the hang of this," she said to herself.

Like many of the old, pretentious families in Neverwinter, the Tavoricks had some grand ideas about where they would like to be put when they died. Perhaps having a funerary chapel built right into the house – and right over a family catacomb – had made sense at one point, when family Tavorick boasted large numbers, and the extended family had dwelt in the grand house. But now, now that it was only the old, lecherous Cyran Tavorick... the whole thing seemed rather sad. The chapel was empty, the statues set into the walls covered in dust and cobwebs, the tapestries torn and faded, with nobody there to clean or replace them.

They made their way past the altar and through a door that led to some very steep, very winding steps, and eventually led into the heart of the earth, where presumably, all the Tavoricks that had come before went to sleep. A few of the demon horde had managed to follow them there, but they weren't very organized, nor were there very many of them, and soon they were able to make their way further into the crypt, through passageways and past sarcophagi that looked older than the city itself. In a room surrounded by the stone coffins of his ancestors, Tavorick stopped and turned to his protectors.

"Predictable creatures, demons," he said, "Can't abide wards, not when they're done right. Now they'll have to come at us through that – Oghma's eyes! What is that stench?"

The only answer he got was an ominous thudding that sounded suspiciously like huge footsteps on the flagstones outside. Behind Finn's back, through the door, Adahni saw to her horror a pair of very, very large feet.

"I can smell you little lordling," a booming demonic voice issued. Shandra gave a little squeak, "I can scent your craven soul amidst the dust of your ancestors."

"And we can smell you too," Adahni called out brazenly. _If I'm going to be ripped limb from limb by some gigantic hellspawn, I'm not doing it crying and sniveling! _"What do you want?"

"I am Qaggoth-Yeg, leader of hordes, cleaver of babau and bebilith, the hunter who does not tire. From the yawning and clamorous layer of Yogguul was I plucked, and now I hunt at the bidding of my Master... and who are you, my mortal friend? You have a wonderful anarchic scent about you. Beneath your weariness and your sweat, you smell of lives shattered and hopes trod underfoot. Perhaps I could smell you better... if only I could come... a bit closer..."

"Sounds like Addie's got a new admirer," Sand said, "I have to say he smells better than the other types you seem interested in..."

"This is no time for jokes, elf!" Ballard commanded, "Get away from the door, all of you!"

As the watchmen had estimated, the creature that burst the wooden door of the crypt asunder was huge. Its arms were disproportionately long for its body, and these he used to lay about in front of him, knocking the companions aside like a child might push around a set of tin soldiers. Though she was paralyzed by some combination of surprise and fear for a moment, Adahni managed to right herself and draw her blade, though she was not entirely sure where she ought to put it. The damn thing was well armored, and looked as though it had a very thick skin.

"Go for the eyes, you fools!" she heard Tavorick's rasping shout.

The sound of four arrows hissing through the air struck her ears as Wetherly, Finn, Bishop, and Deorwin loosed their missiles. Two of the arrows struck, as Tavorick had commanded, the creature's eyes, and he roared piteously. Blinded, though, he proved almost as formidable a foe, as he stomped around, groping for his enemies. This, though, spurred Shandra and Casavir into action, Shandra putting gashes in his legs with the massive scythe that she had taken to carrying. Being a farmer by trade, of course, she was adept with the thing, and had soon severed one of the demon's tendons, causing him to limp about and slowing him considerably.

It was Bishop, though, who saved the day, clambering onto the beast's back and striking him in the back of the head with his knife again and again until the behemoth issued one final cry and collapsed in a pool of its own blood. This having been done, he jumped off and wiped the demon blood from his hands, grinning widely at his companions. Tavorick, though, seemed to remain in a bit of a dark mood.

"That thing," the old man said, "It has a Master. You heard it, didn't you? I told Nasher this hoodwinking business wouldn't work, but does he listen to the old fool? Of course not..."

"I'm not following..." Adahni said.

"I haven't go the shard. Haven't had it since yesterday... passed it to Melia, in fact, just before you got here... whole business was a diversion, to get whoever's seeking the shard to reveal himself. Instead, he sent that brute with the tongue-twisting name."

"Great," Adahni sighed, "Nasher wasn't honest with me, was he..."

"Oh, I'm sure he had the best intentions. Lords always do. But no, he wasn't. Melia's one of the Nine. She's holed up at the Moonstone Mask, with the shard and a half-dozen guards posing as patrons."

"I _knew_ she wasn't a whore," Adahni cried triumphantly.

"But it seems the demon's Master has seen through our ruse. He sent the demons here to occupty you, and to kill me in the bargain. The man himself's on the way to the Mask to claim the shard – I'd bet my heirs son it, if I had any."

"To the Mask, then," Adahni sighed, "Bandage yourself up, it's going to be another long night..."

"Don't let the old dotard get in your way. Probably ought to stay down here, with people more my age," Tavorick said glumly.

Adahni made a mental note to take the next hundred gold she had to spare and to send some pretty young working girl his way for the night.

The Mask, which Adahni had last seen directly after Casavir's wedding, was in chaos. The employees were hiding behind tables and chairs, all of which has been cast about as though some giant child were playing with it like a doll's house.

"Thank the gods you're here!" Ophala's nasal voice greeted them, "A man with glowing tattoos on his face came in here, with a pack of demons – and he's still upstairs now! He's murdered Evlyn at the door, and if he's not stopped, he'll... please you must do something!"

Adahni still had some distaste for the madam, but there was a task ahead of her and she felt that perhaps it might be best to take care of it rather than wallow in her own prejudices.

The upstairs was inhabited by a similar pack of demons as they had faced in the main hall at Tavorick's estate, as well as the bleeding corpses of two dozen or so men. Some of them, she imagined, were Melia's guards. The rest, though.... judging from the various states of undress, she figured they were probably poor buggers who had wanted a woman from the wrong place at the wrong time. The employees, too, many of them, lay in puddles of their own blood and vomit, some with their stays lewdly untrussed.

"What an embarrassing way to die," she commented.

"On the contrary," Bishop said, shooting an arrow into the eye of an oncoming succubus, "That's how I plan to go out."

"Between the legs of a cheap harlot?" Sand asked, "Yes... that would be appropriate..."

They found Melia, or what was left of her, in the bedroom with which Adahni had spent a night with Jem Quarely. She was sprawled out, face down, on the carpet, a few feet from one of her arms which looked as though it had been torn clean off by some unholy force. Shandra gagged a bit, but was startled out of her nausea by the booming voice of the man responsible for Melia's fate.

"Ah, reinforcements," he growled. Adahni looked up at him defiantly, surprised to see that she recognized him from somewhere. As Ophala had said, he had tattooes on his head and face, all glowing as though lit from within. He wasn't particularly tall or imposing, just an old man with a red beard. Something about him, though, left a dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach, "I am afraid you are too late to save this one. And if it is the shard you're after, I am afraid I have that as well. It seems to me all you have left is your life... a fact which is easily corrected."

Without warning, he jumped two feet into the air, his hands above his head forming some sort of magical sign. Adahni saw his lips move in some damned incantation, and before she could hear the words that left his mouth, she found herself face to face with two enormous black dogs, their red eyes glowing with some eerie light. With another incantation, the old warlock conjured a flash of light, and with a whiff of brimstone, disappeared entirely.

The hounds were easily dispatched, but Adahni was still dreading being the bearer of bad news to Lord Nasher. Bruised and bleeding, the companions made their way out of the brothel-made-battleground, and up the steep hill to Castle Never.


	59. A Battle of Egos

To her surprise, upon her arrival at Castle Never, Lord Nasher was up and out of his throne, pacing the room in front of her. When he saw her, he stopped and checked himself, and then approached her regally. When he spoke, however, his voice betrayed not a little alarm, "I heard there was a battle at the Moonstone Mask... is Melia...?"

"The shard is gone, and so is your agent," Adahni said.

Nasher bowed his bald head and clasped his hands under his chin, "That is terrible news. The killer escaped? Was there anything you could do?"

_Well yes, _she thought, _if someone had thought to tell me what was going on, I could have been at the Mask when he arrived, and none of this would have happened. _But what she said was, "Nothing, sir."

"Then it seems there is little more to be done. I can dispatch the Many-Starred Cloaks to the Mask and Cyran's home to look for clues, but as for what they can turn up, I do not know. It looks like justice has been denied this day."

"If I had known that one of the Nine was involved, perhaps things could have turned out differently," she said cautiously.

"Keeping her identity a secret was not meant to harm you or her – but there were too many uncertainties in these deaths as it stood. I am sorry if you find that difficult to understand, but it was my decision to make, not yours."

"Unfortunately," Adahni muttered under her breath.

"As I have said," Nasher said, his voice a bit louder, "And it was not my intention to put her at risk, only to save the lives of people in Blacklake. But nevermind that, what's done is done. If there were a trail, I would ask you to track down this murderer, but without one... I fear we will have to bide our time. And... another matter has recently been brought to our attention. It seems we have an even larger problem within Neverwinter than we first thought..."

The lord's voice trailed off as his eyes settled on something behind Adahni. She looked over her shoulder to see a corpulent woman in her sixties waddling up the grand corridor, followed by a mousy-looking man.

"I hope we are not intruding!" she bellowed. Adahni lowered one eyebrow at her. She was dressed in the sort of finery reserved for high-ranking officials, and her accent was both aristocratic and... Luskan.

"I said I would send for you later, after I am done here," Nasher said, addressing the newcomer.

"My apologies, Lord Nasher. But the conversation before was a bit brief, and I did not think it would be best for both our cities to wait any longer... forgive my impatience." Ignoring the lord, she walked right up to Adahni. Like most humans, she was nearly a head taller than the squire, and looked down at her like a grandmother might at an unruly child., "Ah, is this the Harborman... the Squire I have heard so much about?"

"Careful," Sand muttered, "Hosttower mage, and high-ranking at that."

"I am familiar with your exploits," she cooed, "And as exceptional as they are, I am certain we could spend most of the day discussing them!"

Adahni turned to Lord Nasher and, smiling sweetly, said, "Milord, if this is an inappropriate time, I will take my leave."

"No, no..." the lord said, "I want you here, this merits your attention. This is Sydney Natale, our new Luskan ambassador."

Adahni nodded.

"A man named Black Garius, who claims to serve Luskan's interests, is preparing to perform a powerful ritual within the lands of Neverwinter. Garius serves noone but himself, but he has allied himself with a being known as the King of Shadows, a man or creature of whom we unfortunately know little. Garius intends to make use of this alliance – as he did with Luskan – to increase his personal power, which whill come from the ritual he is close to completing. We believe that he is responsible for the disappearance of the age Aldanon, who has been conscripted to assist..."

"We need you to travel there to stop it," Nasher said, "He will not be ready for several days, I would take the time to rest, gather your strength and forces, but not for more than a day or two, as the journey will take some time. When you get there, I need you to do everything in your power to stop this ritual."

"Duty calls again I see," Adahni sighed.

"Watch your attitude, squire," Nasher snapped, probably more for the benefit of the ambassador than for her, but still, she rolled her eyes as she walked out of the throne room.

Adahni returned to the Sunken Flagon in a dark mood indeed. Images of the tattooed man haunted her, along with those of poor Melia, sprawled in her own blood on the floor of a brothel. She had been appropriate indignant at the deception, but Nasher had _reprimanded_ her when she voiced her opinion and she was reminded at once of being under Daeghun's tutelage. The feeling of impotence and ignorance turned her stomach more than the memories of Melia's broken body. _Pushing twenty-five and still treated like a child, _she thought, _kept in the dark, as though I were just an automaton with a sword. _She had no words for her companions on the way back, and only Casavir thought to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, reminding her that there were still those who thought her mind a resource worth tapping into.

The scene she found at the Flagon upon her return only served to exacerbate the situation. She heard the music before she was even in sight of the place, a familiar tune played upon the base strings of a lute. She had never heard Grobnar play such an instrument. When she left her chamber for the barroom, she saw that it was not Grobnar that was entertaining that night, but another man, human or something like it. He was plunking out the tune of an old drinking song that she knew vaguely, and apparently the sailors were enjoying it. She sauntered up to the bar as the song ended, and he started playing one she knew better. The melody was that of a song she'd sung to Neeshka and Khelgar shortly after she'd met them... was that really less than a year ago? She smiled a little at the memory, but her smile quickly faded as the bard began to sing.

_If you should fancy a maiden fair_

_With her stays untied and her legs in the air_

_Don't bother with the doxies, when you can have the best_

_Of the lusty, busty ladies at the Cuckoo's Nest!_

_Some like it hot and some like it cold_

_Some like em young and some like em old_

_But me I like em small in waist and big in arse and chest_

_Like the lewd and lovely ladies at the Cuckoo's Nest!_

The sound of the old jingle made Adahni's blood run positively cold. It was a song she'd sung many a time, back when she was just a minstrel, skipping around on the streets outside her former place of employment, enticing the sailors and merchants with the promises of the pleasures within. And then... then, after the incident with Dayven and the baby, she'd been one of those 'lusty, busty' ladies. Her stomach twisted and turned at the memory.

She looked closer at the minstrel, hoping he was not a former client. To her relief, she didn't recognize him. He was handsome, to be sure, but there was something cocky about him that put Adahni right off. That, of course, in combination with the fact that he thought that singing a song advertising a Luskan whorehouse was an appropriate thing to do.

"Who the hells is he?" she asked Duncan after she'd dumped her gear in her room. Her companions dispersed, Casavir back to his wife, Bishop back to his ale, and Sand back to his shop.

"That's Caine Lethellon," Duncan said, "Used to work here... he asked Grobnar if he could play a set for old times' sake."

"And he's singing that filth?" Adahni fumed.

"I don't presume to tell my bards what they may or may not sing," Duncan said mildly.

"He's not even _good_!" she seethed, "Anyway, who even plays the lute?"

"Why don't you tell him that?" Duncan asked, "He has a competitive streak. Believe me, I employed him for several years, there's nothing I'd like more than to see him humiliated at his own craft..."

"I could play better than him standing on one leg and drunk," Adahni said.

Duncan shrugged and rolled his eyes, evidently reluctant to take part in his niece's battle of the egos. He excused himself and went into the kitchen to make sure Qara wasn't doing anything suspicious to the stew he was serving that night. Adahni grunted for an ale, and stood at the bar, sipping it and glaring at Caine.

The song drew to a close, and the minstrel was greeted with claps and whistles from the crowd. He started up another tune, this one a slow waltz. As she had observed before, he was playing a lute. These large, pear-shaped instruments were popular among minstrels, partially because they had a fine, deep tone, and partially because compared to similar instruments, they were easy to play. Adahni herself had played one when she first started in Luskan, until her fingers became callused enough that pushing down on the doubled strings of a mandolin no longer made them bleed. After she had mastered mandolin and harp, though, she had had little use for lutes, finding them overly heavy to accompany singing, and too clumsy to play anything suitable for dancing.

When the waltz was over, she approached him, smothering her disdain. "Fair instrument," she observed, "Where'd you hear the last one you played?"

"My instrument is more than fair, love," Caine said, smiling. His teeth were very white and perfectly straight, "As for the song, it's an old standard."

"The melody is," Adahni said, "But the lyrics you put to it aren't."

"Ah, yes," the bard said, chuckling, "That part was actually requested by one of the customers here. Not terribly savory, but well-written... leaves no ambiguity as to what it's about."

"No, no, I suppose it doesn't," Adahni said, glancing nervously around the room for someone she may have known a long time before, "Which one of these degenerates taught it to you?"

"He's not here anymore," Caine said, "I imagine he's still a regular here, the smuggler lad with the bow on his back. Can't for the life of me remember his name."

_Of course, who in the hells else would think that that would be funny? _Adahni thought.

"So what's your name, love?" the bard asked.

"Addie," she said.

"Ah! So you must be the proprieter's niece we've heard so much about!"

"That'd be me," she sighed.

"So you're the one he was off looking for all that time," Caine said.

"Yep," she said, a little uneasy with how much he seemed to know about her.

"I started writing a ballad about it," the bard said, "It had all the features... pretty lass goes missing from her father's house, the old adventurer takes up the sword again to go after her? But then..."

"Then what?"

"He didn't find you, obviously," Caine said, "But now, here you are, and here I am."

"And?"

"Tell me what happened, I've a ballad to finish!" the bard said.

"I came back," Adahni said, "That's all."

"Come on, love," he said, "I know there's a juicy story in there somewhere."

"What, you can't make one up on your own?" she asked.

"I never!" Caine exclaimed, putting his hand to his chest, "I have never been so insulted in my entire life! Who do you think you are?"

"Not some hack with a tongue of lead, evidently," Adahni replied, "Tell me something, if you're so respected, what are you doing here?"

"I'll have you know I have played on the grandest stages in the land! Why, tomorrow I will be at the amphitheater in Blacklake, playing for a crowd of hundreds!"

"And I'm sure they'll adore it," Adahni said, "Most people, after all, know very little about music."

"I'd like to see you try your hand at it," Caine said, "You'd probably crack under the pressure!"

"Pressure? Do you not know what I do for a living?"

"Word around the dock is you spread your legs for silver," Caine said, loud enough for the entire bar to hear, "Pressure indeed!"

"Ouch, that hurt my feelings," she said, pouting. She wasn't really in a fighting mood, but had been itching to put the man in his place all night, "Is that the best you can do? Accuse me of following your mother's profession?"

Caine looked a though he were chewing over his next words, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he drew a kidskin glove from his left pocket and used it to smack her soundly across the face. Three chairs fell immediately to the floor as Shandra, Grobnar, and Elanee all leaped to their feet, presumably to come to her defense.

"Ah ah ah!" Caine clucked, "Not that kind of duel."

Adahni, face still smarting from the slap, narrowed her eyes at him and took her hand off the hilt of her blade.

"I'm curious how nimble those callused fingers are," he said, "Can they play this?" He played a riff on his lute, not from any song Addie had ever heard. She said nothing, but stuck her hand out. He handed her his lute, which really was a handsome instrument, and after mulling it over in her head, and trying to remember the proper positioning of her fingers, she mimicked it note for note, even adding a little flourish on the end that would have been nicer, she thought, if she had been playing it on a mandolin.

"Hmph!" Caine sniffed. He held out his hand for his lute, which she handed to him.

"Gnomehands!" she barked, "Do you have a lute I can borrow?"

"Why, of course, my lady!" Grobnar exclaimed, "It would be my pleasure!" He scurried off back to his bunkroom and returned with a lute, tuned an octave higher than Caine's. She thanked him, and tuned it hastily.

Caine played another few bars, a bit faster, with more ornamentation. Again, she copied the tune, this time playing it even faster than Caine. This went on for the better part of an hour, Caine trying to find ever more difficult pieces to play, and Adahni following him with ease. Finally, she put down the lute. "This is ridiculous," she said, "Just admit that you've been beat!"

"I'm only just getting warmed up, love," Caine said, smiling.

"Then let's make this interesting," she said, "So we know you can play the lute... really any idiot can play the lute, so let's not get delusions of grandeur. What about composition?"

"I composed the melodies I just played," Caine said, "Could you do such a thing?"

"I mean poetic composition," she replied, "Like I said, any idiot can play the lute, but it takes a fine bardic mind to effect a lovely turn of phrase. I propose a second part of the contest... a song of our own making."

Caine looked ruffled, but nodded silently, "Is that what my audience wants?" he asked the crowd. He was greeted by claps and whistles and one woman, evidently a groupie of sorts, tossed him a white rose from her bodice. Adahni rolled her eyes.

"However," he said, "Since you have brought it up, I believe you ought to be the first to go."

Adahni felt a gust of power go through her, and she turned to the audience, "What do you fine people want to hear first?"

"Drinking!" the roar came, accompanied by the dull thud of mugs on tables.

"Lovely!" Adahni said, and picked up her mandolin. She had been toying with a chorus for a few days, and her encounter with this interloper at her bar

_I'll slay a kobold and a ghast, I'll slay a fucking dragon_

_Just let me drag my sorry ass back to the Sunken Flagon_

_I love the whiskey and the beer and the juice of the juniper berry_

_So pour me a cup of cheer, let's drink and all be merry_

_I'll drink to all the fond hellos, and all the sad goodbyes_

_For if the drink don't kill me soon, I'll surely be surprised_

"I suppose you call that poetic composition?" Caine said, "That's filth!"

"So top it, Lethellon," Adahni said.

"I will _not _be stooping to her level," Caine announced, "On the contrary, the song I will sing is a song of tenderest love, composed by myself some years ago."

He struck up a tune. Adahni glanced uneasily over the audience. They had grown in numbers as people had stopped in to hear the contest. Neeshka and Cormick had shown up at some point, as well as Casavir and Vania. Cormick had applauded loudly at her drinking song, and gave her a wink when she looked his way.

The tune was slow and mournful. As he began to sing, Adahni admitted to herself that he did have a fine voice, deep and smooth as the lowest strings of a fiddle, and from the expression on his face she could see that he was truly pouring all the power he had into this song.

_My love is far away from me though never from my heart_

_I curse and rue the tragic day my love and I did part_

_The light of day is in her hair, the ocean in her eye_

_And if I cannot have my love then surely I will die_

_It is her cruel father that does torment me sore_

_For I am but a simple lad, no gold or land in store_

_But I'll return to see her, and ne'er more say goodbye_

_For if I cannot have my love then surely I will die_

_And so I offer you my hand, and hope she will agree_

_To leave her tower high and to come away with me_

_For her I'd sail the ocean vast and climb the mountain high_

_And if I cannot have my love then surely I will die_

He played a little while more, and then struck the final note, which rung like a bell through the silence in the bar. She saw that some of the women there were wiping their eyes, and that Vania, seated in the corner, was crying openly, the tears trickling freely down her cheeks. She realized then that she had made a fatal error in this contest, and would have to admit defeat.

"What do you think of that, Addie?"

"Well, Master Lethellon," she said, "That was a lovely song..."

"He cheated!" the cry came. Adahni looked up in alarm to see that Vania had stood up and was pointing at Caine, "He cheated! He didn't write that song!"

"Nonsense!" Caine exclaimed, "Of course I did!"

"No you didn't!" Vania sobbed, "My love wrote that song when he went away to the war!"

Adahni looked in alarm at Casavir, but saw that he was as confused as she was.

"He wrote it for me!" she insisted, "And sent it to me in a letter. I keep it with me always!" She fumbled in her bodice and took out a much-worn scroll, "Ten years ago now," she said, "How did you know it?"

"Your lover must have copied it from me," Caine said, but Adahni could see that he was getting desperate.

"That's a lie!" Vania said, "That song was written by Ayron Alamine... he was a squire..."

Adahni's mouth dropped open. Grobnar had scurried over to her.

"She's right," he said, "The date on this later is about ten years ago."

"Ten years ago," Duncan said, "Ten years ago, you were working here. I never heard you play that song."

"It was private!" Caine blurted, "For the woman I loved at the time, I wouldn't have shared it with the likes of you!"

"You're a cheat, Caine, you always have been," Duncan said, "Get out of my bar."

"But my audience..." Caine protested.

He was met with a chorus of boo's from the barroom.

"Leave your lute," Duncan said, "It's mine by rights. And after this, I doubt you'll work in this town again if I have anything to say about it."

"Bah! Philistines, the lot of you!" Caine sighed in disgust. He put the lute on the table, turned, and stalked out into the night.

"Pretty prize indeed," Duncan said, handing the instrument to her.

"Yes," she said, "I'm sure you're glad to have it back."

"Me? I've got all the musical talent of a three-legged donkey. It's yours."

"Really?" Adahni asked, her eyes going wide. The lute was a very fine instrument, and from the crackle that passed through her hands as she took it from him, she imagined it probably had some magical properties that its previous owner had failed to realize, "Thank you, Duncan."

"My pleasure, Addie," he said, "Now do it some justice and play a dancing tune. The last song made people too sad, and happy people buy more drinks."


	60. The Fate of the Sage

Giddy from her victory over Caine, Adahni had no intention to going to bed that night. She stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, until most had either been thrown out or left of their own accord. She was fooling around with her new lute when she looked up to see that the only other person in the room was Casavir. He was sitting at the bar, staring glumly into a mug of ale. Feeling magnanimous, she put her instrument down and sat down beside him.

"You know she loves you," Adahni said. To her surprise, these words pained her heart as much as the first time he confessed that he loved another. _Don't tell me you're not over it yet, _she thought, _Come on, Addie, you're too old for this. _Her reason, as usual, failed to quell the feelings that surged inside her, and she found herself staring at the side of his face as she had before, wishing that he were thinking about her.

"She'll never stop loving him," the paladin said, "I suppose I could not ask her to..."

"He was her first love," she said, "You never give that up."

"You seem to have," he said.

She sighed and stared at the table, "No, I haven't. If I stopped loving him, I'd be letting the darkness that took him win."

"It's a curse," Casavir said bitterly, "I thought that once we were married, once she had decided to be with me, that that would be that."

"It's difficult, I know that you cared deeply for Ayron as well," Adahni said.

"I'm too old for this," Cas said, "I loved him deeply, and I have never forgiven myself for what I did. But still allowed him, in some ways, to rule my life. I thought perhaps that now, marrying Vania, might put an end to that, that perhaps it would allow me to have a life of my own, separate from the one selfish, horrible thing I did when I was little more than a boy."

She nodded, "Well... perhaps if you wanted to get away from that one deed, marrying the woman you did it for wasn't the best move."

"I love her," he said.

"I know you do," Adahni said, doing her best not to sound bitter, "And, like I said earlier, she loves you. But remember, she was also very young when the man she loved died in her arms. That's not a hurt you ever recover from, and I'm sure that hearing his song brought back more pain than she had bargained for."

"I need a favor, my lady," he said, draining his mug, "I want to come with you to Crossroad Keep. The time away may clear my head."

"You always have a place by my side," she said.

"That's not the favor," he said, "Don't bring the ranger."

She laughed, "Very well."

"No," said Casavir, "I mean, really... don't bring him. He always seems to tag along, whether he's needed or not."

"I'm sorry," she said, narrowing her eyes at him, "I didn't realize that this was a problem."

"You're in love with him, aren't you," he said accusingly. Adahni realized at this moment that dear, stodgy, Casavir was drunk. She herself was none too sober, but she realized that she had never really seen the paladin lose himself at the bottom of a bottle. _He must be more upset than I realized, _she thought.

She stared at him, wide-eyed and incredulous, "With the ranger? Are you joking?"

"You seem very close to each other," Cas replied, "He puts himself in your way, his eyes are always on you. And you respond in kind."

"That's ridiculous," she said, "No, I am not in love with the ranger."

"But there is someone," he said, "I know there is someone. I've confided in you, laid bare my soul before your eyes, and yet you insist on remaining a mystery!"

"There was someone," she said, "Until very recently."

"Do I know him?"

"Better than you'd think," she replied, "Look, if you're going to come to Crossroad Keep, we can't have you staggering and weaving the entire way there. You need to go to bed."

"I can't," he said, using the bar to help himself out of his chair. He swayed a little, "She told me she wants to be alone tonight."

"We'll get you into one of the bunkrooms," she said, darting up and slinging his arm around her shoulder.

"No... the ranger's there," he said, hiccuping. If she hadn't found his behavior so disturbing, she would have thought him uproariously funny, "I'm drunk... I might kill him..."

"Astute observation," she said, "All right, come on."

She probably could have carried him if he weren't so large and awkwardly shaped, and so they settled for half dragging him back to her own chamber and dropping him unceremoniously on her bed. She clambered over him and yanked off his boots, tossing them in the corner, and blew out the candle by the bedside. Neeshka had taken to sharing quarters with Cormick at his flat across the street, so her bunk would be unoccupied unless Duncan had rented it out for the night. She rose to leave.

"Stay with me," she heard the paladin call weakly from her bed.

"This is what you would probably call 'hardly appropriate,'" she grumbled, "Though I suppose we've slept in closer quarters before. Although the fact that there were two or three other people in the tent at all times didn't make it look quite as bad as the fact that you're jumping into bed with another woman the first time you fight with your new wife."

"Oh, don't be silly, Addie," he slurred, pulling a pillow under his head, "You're not really a woman."

"Really," she said, taken aback, "Then what am I?"

"You're a..." he started. His eyes were closed, and with his face half buried in the pillow, she could tell that he was almost gone, "You're a soldier."

Within five minutes he was snoring. She left the room quietly and went to the women's bunkroom. Someone was in Neeshka's bunk, so she went to the men's side and took an unoccupied bunk across the room from Khelgar. The mattress wasn't nearly as comfortable as the one she was used to, but a far sight better than the ground outside, and so, as soon as her head hit the pillow, she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The journey to Crossroad Keep was made rougher than usual by the torrential rains that came over the mountains, soaking everything in their path and making the roads little more than glorified mud puddles. The five of them - she, Casavir, Shandra, Sand, and Khelgar - kept the sides to avoid sinking boot-deep in the mud, and struggled into the piercing wind in solemn silence. The weather forced them to stay in inns and farmers' barns the whole way, and the gold that Dayven had left her was soon spent. The rain let up a bit as they approached the crumbling towers of the keep in the distance, but the ground was still soggy, and they found themselves tumbling head over heels not a few times. The outlying farms looked to have been the scene of some major battle, and recently. Corpses littered the road, most too charred to decay.

"That farmer," Shandra said, pausing over the body of a young man, "They didn't even bury him. Why would they do this? It's monstrous!"

"He'll get a proper burial once we're done here," Adahni said, "Or at least a proper cremation."

"Thank you," Shandra said, "He deserves as much."

They were interrupted by a young elfin man darting up to them from the remains of a farmhouses, "I'm with the Many-Starred Cloaks," he announced, "This way, quickly, before you give us away!" They followed him to the shelter of the ruin. "The Luskans change guard shifts around this time, moving men in and out of the Keep. If we strike hard and fast, we'll take the courtyard and be inside the Keep before they realize what's going on."

Adahni looked through a hole in the wall at the keep. "What are we up against?" she asked.

"Around twenty Luskan soldiers in the courtyard - most of them asleep - and a handful more inside the Keep. The Arcane Brotherhood wizards will be more of the challenge, but we can handle them."

"You're not certain of the Brotherhood's numbers?"

"Luskan is just probing our defenses. The Hosttower wouldn't risk too many wizards on this sort of mission."

"Well then," Adahni said, "I suppose it's play time."

They approached the gates quietly and waited in the darkness for almost half an hour. A bell rang somewhere deep within the keep, and the elf signaled silently for them to move in for the kill as the gate began to creak open. Shandra cut down the guards being relieved with a single swipe of her scythe, and their replacements soon found themselves on the wrong end of Khelgar's axe. Someone with accute hearing sounded an alarm bell, and as they entered the courtyard, they were beset on all sides. Two of the Many-Starred cloaks fell wounded, and Adahni had to pull an arrow from Shandra's arm, but at the end of the battle, it was a defeat for Luskan.

"Damn it," the elfin mage cursed as he reached the double doors of the castle's grand entrance, "Nathe, Sevann... I want those doors open. Now."

"I guess we'll just wait here then?" Adahni asked, tearing off a strip of bandage with her teeth and tying it around Shandra's wound.

"We're being counterspelled, Vale" one of the mages on door duty informed them, "I don't think we're going to be able to open the doors from this side."

"Wonderful," Vale grunted, "Looks like the Brotherhood has a few tricks of its own." He thought for a moment, tapping his foot on the ground, "All right - backup plan. I know this keep has an escape tunnel somewhere. Squire, I need you to go find it and use it to get into the keep. Once you're inside, kill whichever wizards are countering our spells, and we'll be able to get in. It'll be somewhere in the mountains, far from these walls."

"Great," Adahni muttered, "More mucking about in the hills, eh?"

"Make it fast," Vale said, "It looks like the rains about to come back."

"Fucking fabulous," she sighed, looking at the sky. It did look rather treacherous.

"Something tells me this plan isn't nearly as well thought out as it ought to be," Shandra said as they left the outlying farms and climbed into the mountains behind the keep, "It's like finding a needle in a haystack, if you don't know what a needle looks like."

"Ah, that's because you're not a dwarf," Khelgar said, "It's right there."

"What?" Shandra asked, "It's pitch black and starting to rain, what are you talking about?"

"There," he said, pointing to what looked like just another outcropping of rocks. He walked up to it and gave one of the rocks a nudge. It rolled away easily to reveal the mouth of a cave, "See? Bloody obvious."

"To a troglodyte like yourself, perhaps," Sand sniffed.

"I suppose you think you've just insulted me," Khelgar said, "I'll have you know that 'troglodyte' is a high compliment to us dwarves."

"Come on, into the cave," Adahni said, "Before the rain gets worse."

The cave was uninhabited except for a few oversized bugs, and as they made their winding way into the heart of the mountain Adahni felt her spirits lift some. There was something immensely satisfying about cracking through the carapace of giant beetles, and it was worth the several facefulls of flame she got doing it. By the time they neared the entrance of the keep proper, she was throwing all of herself into it, channeling all the frustration and rage into smashing the little fuckers to kingdom come.

"I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and say that that door up there will lead to somewhere in the castle," Sand said, pointing with one long finger at a great door of dark oakwood set into the stone of the tunnel wall.

"Well aren't you a bloody genius," Khelgar said, "Who wants to go first? Mind you, we don't know what spell-slingers lie beyond there."

"I'll do it," Casavir said quietly. He walked up to the door and pushed it gently. To all of their surprise, it creaked open, revealing a dimly-lit room beyond. As Adahni's eyes adjusted, she saw that the walls were covered, floor to ceiling, in bookshelves, and that many of the books had been scattered across the floor. Standing in the corner was a very familiar someone in a white robe.

"He doesn't look like a Hosttower mage," Sand said.

"I'll say," said Shandra, "I think... I think it's Aldanon!"

Her suspicion was proven as the sage came toddling up to them, "Lovely to see you again!" he exclaimed, seizing Casavir's hand and pumping it enthusiastically, "Would you like some tea?"


	61. The Captain of Crossroad

"That's it?" Khelgar said, looking at the havoc they had just wreaked. After fighting their way through the main hall and down into an antechamber of the basement, they had managed to interrupt what appeared to be a very sensitive ritual, "We don't even get to kill the boss-man?" He gestured with his axe at one of the figures on the floor, presumably he was the Black Garius that everyone seemed to be talking about.

"What in the hells..." Vale, who had followed them at the sounds of battle.

"What you see here, I believe," Sand said, looking down his nose at the other elf, "Is the price one pays when attempting to use power without the means to control it.

"Well," Khelgar sighed, evidently still disappointed that he didn't get to personally dispatch Garius, "Would have been nice to crush Garius ourselves, but it's a little more atisfying for him to be undone by his own ritual."

"We have prevented a great evil here," Casavir said. He was the only one of them to have been seriously injured in this bout, receiving a great slash across his forehead that would have killed him had he not healed himself quickly. As it was, he had only managed to wipe the blood from his eyes, "Something still feels wrong, though..."

Adahni barely heard the words as she knelt beside Garius's lifeless corpse. Clutched in one still hand was another silver shard, matching the ones she carried on her person always, and presumably the one she carried _in _her person. She took it and wrapped it in the silk sheet with the others.

"We need to return to Neverwinter," she said, "It's not a short journey, we should try to cover as much ground as we can before sunrise."

On the journey home, Adahni found herself actually enjoying the company of the many-starred cloaks. One of them, Sevann his name was, struck up a bit of a flirtation with Shandra, which amused Adahni. Casavir seemed to have lightened up a bit since his bout with the drink, and she imagined that the week or so away from his wife - and the ranger - had probably done him some good.

Upon their arrival, Adahni went to the Watch headquarters, hoping to find Neeshka. Instead, she found Aldanon, deep in conversation with Captain Brelaina.

"Ah, Addie!" Brelaina called, "I was just speaking with Master Aldanon concerning one of the prisoners you recovered from Garius.... a woman, but not of Neverwinter or Luskan - or even perhaps this plane of existence."

"Prisoner?"

"She was locked up with Aldanon," Brelaina said, "When she asked for you, I thought that you had spoken before. I was hoping ou might be able to help us out concerning her identity - or her intentions. Aldanon has a theory..."

"If you would both simply_ listen,"_ Aldanon sighed, "The comparison to a rock, a big rock, is a simple one, almost perfect. This prisoner you have... it seems that she is of the same stone as the githyanki, but yet she is not. You see, both were once one people, at one time, even though time is a very difficult thing to measure depending on the Plane, and that's not even counting time in Astral Plane or on..."

"So is she dangerous?" asked Brelaina impatiently.

"Oh, that I don't know," Aldanon said, cheerfully, "I do know that the githzerai and the githyanki have been in a state of war for millenia. It's common knowledge."

Adahni vaguely recalled reading something of the githzerai war and suddenly wished she had paid a little more attention to the history instead of skipping straight to the bloody parts.

"She seemed reasonable enough when we spoke together in Crossroad Keep, but there was a foot of stone between us, which is notoriously hard for a blade to cut through the kill someone on the other side... speaking of which, I'm anxious to return there!" He gave a quick, arthritic bow to Brelaina, and one to Adahni, and then turned around twice and walked out onto the street.

"He's not seriously going to make that journey on his own, is he?" Adahni asked.

"I'm sure he's taking servants with him," Shandra reassured her.

"Here's the prisoner," Brelaina said, opening the door behind her and gesturing towards a female someone with greenish skin, the lower part of her face hidden by a translucent veil, "You should have a chat, I suppose."

"I felt your presence before my eyes fell upon you, _Kalach-Cha,_" the woman intoned, "Step forward, let me look upon you."

"How did you know my name?"

"Your name..." the woman said, and Adahni thought she heard a smile, but her mouth was hidden, "Your name is not how I know you. Know this name our enemies have draped upong you - this _Kalach-Cha _- its sound travels far, even reaching the ears of my people."

_Those are some impressively large ears, they are, _Adahni thought, but kept her opinion to herself.

"At first, my people thought our enemies had erred, that they did not know of that which they speak. But here, now, as you stand in my presence, I see the truth. I did not think it possible - but the key by which you may know yourself lies within you. I know much of the problems that beset your people and mine - the reason behind these attacks upon your heart and home. You will have no greater ally in this than I. In exchange for my aid, it is my will I be freed - so that I might travel with you and aid you against these enemies."

"What in the hells is she going on about?" Adahni muttered to Casavir, "The key by which I may know myself?"

"I think that may be less important than the fact she wishes to help us," Casavir responded.

"Good point," Adahni conceded, "Why is it you want to travel with me?"

"This cell is abhorrent to me. It is a shackle of stone encasing me. It causes memories of the ways of the illithids to surface in my mind."

"Well, they're sort of supposed to be unpleasant," Adahni sighed, "Why don't you tell me what you know first, and then we'll see."

She held her gaze on the githzerai woman, waiting for an answer. She saw that she was looking beyond Adahni's shoulder at someone who had just entered the room. She turned to see that Sir Nevalle was standing in the doorway, waiting for her attention.

"I heard you were here. You fought bravely, and we took them almost completely by surprise," he said, "You are to be commended - both for your efforts and the lives spared this day. Had you not been there, we would have many less brave men standing with us today... along with what may be the key to taking this battle to our enemies."

"In freeing me," the gith woman said, "Know that you have gained more than you ever would have torn from the lips and thoughts of our enemies."

"Then speak," Nevalle commanded her, "Aldanon does not think you are allied with these enemies... these githyanki. And his word carries weight with me - fortunately for you."

"Then know the trade between us is this. Release me from this prison, let my path become that of the Kalach-Cha. In return, I will greant you the knowing of this threat - and all the darkness its shadow casts."

"We promise an honest hearing," Nevalle said, "And if your tale rings true, we will grant you your freedom. Meet us back at Crossroad Keep as soon as you are able; we will speak there."

"You're telling me," Adahni said, looking at the knight incredulously, "That we've just gotten back from Crossroad Keep, that is to say, a third of the way across this kingdom, and now we have to go back?"

"I suppose when you put it that way it sounds little ridiculous," Nevalle conceded, "However, there is work to be done there. I am sorry for the inconvenience."

"Fine," Adahni sighed, "I suppose it isn't your fault. You and the gith head there when you want, but my companions and I need to spend at least a day or two on real beds with real roofs over our heads. I hope this is acceptable."

Nevalle nodded, "Very well, your request is not unreasonable."

"I'm glad we agree," Adahni said.

Back at the Flagon, word had spread of their victory over the Arcane Brotherhood, and everyone seemed to want to buy them drinks. Never one to turn down a free trip to the oblivion that lay at the bottom of a flagon of wine, Adahni spent the next couple of days carousing with the sailors and dockworkers. As such, she barely noticed that Casavir and Vania had taken to spending long hours away from each other, and that they exchanged few words in public. What she did notice, however, that Bishop seemed to have disappeared. She had not laid eyes on the man since the night that they had left for the keep, the night she had battled Caine, and she wondered where on Faerun he could have gotten himself to.

On the third day, she called her companions - all but the ranger, who was still missing in action - to her side and told them that they would have to leave for the keep soon. Shandra, of course, volunteered to come along, as did Sand. To her surprise, Neeshka appeared from Cormick's flat across the street, and declared that she wanted to go, too. Adahni, of course, agreed to allow her to, realizing suddenly that she missed the girl, despite all her oddball qualities.

The storms seemed to have passed by this time, and the weather was getting downright pleasant. Grobnar begged off the journey, citing crippling hayfever, and said that he would join them there at a later time. This time, they made the hilly approach to the keep under the noonday sun. The crumbling towers looked more sad than threatening.

They found Nevalle in the courtyard, gazing at the ruin in a revery. "It's seen better days... and will again," he said wistfully, "This Keep was destroyed during the war with the King of Shadows. It was a dark time for Neverwinter, but we persevered, as you have." He looked at Adahni with a kind smile on his face. She, who had never had much use for Nevalle - goodlooking as all hells or not, found herself smiling back at him despite herself.

"So what is the work that you have brought us back here for?" she asked.

"I have brought you back here under orders, Adahni Farishta, for Lord Nasher has a new task for you," Nevalle said, the smile on his face going downright mysterious, "And perhaps our... guest can see what it is you'll be fighting for in the coming days." He gestured with his head to where the gith woman was seated under a tree, meditating, "These people you see around you?" he pointed to a load of workmen, who were busy moving stone from one place to another, patching wholes in some of the walls, and cutting lumber, "They are now yours to command as you see fit."

Adahni's heart gave a lurch as she surveyed the laborers and the keep.

"You are their Captain in Neverwinter's service. Make this Keep ready for war, gather troops to your banner, and be prepared to strike when this enemy reveals itself," Nevalle said approvingly.

"Ready for war?" She looked around again.

"Don't be nervous there, Addie," Nevalle said, "You won't be without resources. Yo help you manage the keep, Lord Nasher has assigned you an officer, Kana." He pointed up to the entrance, where a young woman with dark hair was giving instructions to a man wearing a mason's apron, "Master Veedle, the one she's talking with, has been contracted to help you rebuild the Keep and the surrounding area. You are the mistress of this keep now."

"Ah... I..." Adahni began, "Me?" she finally squeaked, hardly believing it was true. Her heart flooded with a mixture of dread and excitement, and her hands began to tremble.

"This is your land," Nevalle said, "Defend it, for the sake of your people."

During the previous soliloquy, the gith woman had risen from her meditative pose, and approached them, "Look," she said, "Even now, shadows fall upon this place, yet still its beauty persists. It is not surprising to me that our enemies wish to mar this place with their blades at their war."

Adahni could barely bring herself to speak, still examining everything within her sight. Sure, the keep was crumbling into the ground. _If I'd known it as going to be mine, I wouldn't have made such a mess in the basement, _she thought. She remarked on the half a dozen or so buildings, one which looked as though it used to be an inn, one which had probably served as a chapel, and one that had once been barracks for troops. _Troops. _My _troops. Who in the hells thought it would be a good idea to entrust me with all this? There's probably a village or two in the vicinity, and the farms around the outside will have to be rebuilt. I'll have to re-read all those books about castle defense..._

"Who are you, anyway?" Shandra asked, appointing herself the mouthpiece for Adahni until she retained the ability to do anything but squeal.

"My name is Zhjaeve," the gith woman said, "I am a priestess."

"And what is it that you were going to tell us in exchange for your freedom?" Shandra said.

"Know this," Zhjaeve said, "The first glimpses of..."

"She's not paying attention," Neeshka said.

"Of course she's not, she's just been handed an entire castle," Sand said, "Would you?"

"Listen, Zhjaeve, or however the hells you pronounce that," Shandra said, "Do us a favor, and write everything down. We'll make her read it when she regains her senses."


	62. Reunions

For a month or so, Adahni devoted all of her time to making the keep a sound place to live. The inn was built first, so they would have somewhere to sleep while the rest of the construction was going on, but eventually the ruin that was the castle itself was made more than fit for habitation. Her companions had been running between the keep and the Flagon as it pleased them, but as a small room had been built for each of them within the walls of the castle, which would offer more privacy and comfort than the bunkroom at Duncan's inn, she wrote a letter to send for them. They trickled in one by one. Shandra had never left her side, and had often provided organizational help as she tried to keep the million and a half projects she had going straight. Sand, who had gone back to his shop, returned as he grew tired of the life he had led before and longed to get back into adventuring. On the eve of midsummer, Casavir and his wife arrived in a rented wagon, and settled in quickly to life at the Keep.

She had had some success recruiting employees from her travels. Calindra, the miner from Amn had agreed to oversee the collection of materials, while Jacoby from Fort Locke had taken into his hands the task of outfitting the Greycloaks. Day by day, men and a few women from the outlying farms flocked to the Keep. Many were from Highcliff and Fort Locke; word of her deeds had reached the towns she had previously been through, and even Port Llast had a few young sword-arms to offer. She handed them over to Kana for training, who turned out to be more than able to turn shepherds and farmers into capable soldiers.

Two weeks past midsummer, she was awakened from her sleep to the sound of a horn. She scrambled to her feet and buckled on armor and sword, sure that they had come under attack. However, when she went to the window to see who was approaching, she saw a small band of roughly-armored soldiers, marching under the banner of Neverwinter, and another banner that depicted a sword, dripping with blood, on a background of mountains. She hurriedly brushed her hair and went to the gate to meet them, wondering what business they brought. When she arrived there, she saw that Khelgar and Casavir had, too, been called to the fore.

"What is going on here?" she asked, sounding her best to sound military and professional.

"The Sword Mountain Militia is here to offer their services to you," their leader said, bowing. When she stood and took off the helmet that covered her nose and eyebrows, Adahni recognized her.

"Katriona?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"Well met, Adahni Farishta," the paladin said, grinning broadly and offering one gloved hand to shake. Adahni did so gratefully, looking over the soldiers.

"Who... what is going on?" she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I've been sweeping the valley villages for days," Katriona said, "Many of those who served under the _Katalmach _followed me here, as well as a few of those scattered in the Dwarven villages under the mountains. Many were still itching for a fight, especially the dwarves, and when word came to us that the Captain of Crossroad was recruiting, we decided that the Greycloaks were perfectly capable of taking care of Old Owl Well on their own, and that our swords would be better served here. And then, of course, upon finding out the identity of the Captain, not a few of us insisted on coming."

Adahni stared, openmouthed, at the small force. They were about twenty in number, clothed in second-hand armor, but armed with the fine blades that she had seen at Katriona's shop in Old Owl Well. Among them, she recognized a few from Casavir's band. She was less surprised than she ought to have been to see none other than Jem Quarely among their number. Her gaze fell on the dwarves among their number, most of them great, ruddy-bearded warriors like Khelgar, who saluted her stiffly as she paced in front of them, wondering at her good fortune.

"It... it can't be," she heard Khelgar rumble. She looked at her sturdy companion in alarm. He had approached one of the militia slowly, a broadshouldered dwarf armored from head to toe and bearing a nasty-looking double-headed axe that Adahni was very glad not to be on the receiving end of.

"Khelgar?" the dwarf said, and tore off her - for it was a her - helmet.

"Helvynn!" he exclaimed, and threw his arms around her with a clank and clatter as their respective armor collided, and lifted her clean off the ground, "My Helvynn! I thought you had perished in the bugbear attack!"

"A few of us escaped into the hills," the dwarven lass said breathlessly. Her helmet off, Adahni saw that she had long, blond hair that was shot through with white, braided and twisted around her head. Her face was smooth, except for a great scar that ran down from the corner of her left eye to her mouth, and not unattractive, "What are you doing here?"

"I took to wandering," Khelgar said, putting her down and wiping a tear from his eye, "After... well you know... and I ran into this bumbling fool from Westharbor. Gradually... she bumbled less, and now she's a Captain of Neverwinter."

Adahni grinned down at the dwarf woman and extended a hand. Helvynn seized it with a strength that nearly broke Adahni's fingers and pumped it happily, "Well met!" she exclaimed.

"Well met, Helvynn," she said, "Khelgar has spoken highly of you."

"He spoke of me?" Helvynn said shyly, her fair skin going pink.

"At length," Adahni said, giggling, "If you're half the warrior he says you are, then the King of Shadows ought to turn tail and run."

"I," Helvynn said, "Am a Hammerforge. I am twice the warrior he says I am."

"Any friend of Khelgar's is a friend of mine."

"So, I take it you know each other," Katriona commented, her eyebrows raised, "And you, evidently, know my subordinate, Jem. He's proven a fine lieutenant."

"Well, I suppose I had to be good at something," Jem said modestly.

"Try to stay out of any brawls," Adahni said, winking at Jem. He blushed and smiled, "Listen, Katriona, I need you to go up and speak with a woman in the grand hall, up the hill. Her name is Kana, and you will be reporting to her."

"Really?" Katriona said, "I am prepared to relinquish command of this unit to you."

"Nothing of the sort!" Adahni exclaimed, "You're now my seargent, the unit will remain yours, as well as other Greycloaks who are assigned to you. You have proven yourself more than capable."

Katriona grinned, "I see we have made a wise choice, coming to your service."

"Indeed you have," Adahni said. _I hope so, _she thought, "Troops... head to the barracks, it's that big building on your left. Your time is your own until I, Kana, or your seargent says otherwise. At ease, men."

The small troop set off to the barracks.

"Hammerforge!" she barked, "Where in the hells do you think you're going?"

"To the barracks, sir!" Hammerforge responded.

"You will do nothing of the sort," Adahni said.

Helvynn started giggling, and she and Khelgar, hands joined, took off up the hill, leaving Adahni with Casavir.

"That just brightened my day tenfold," she said, grinning up at him.

"Yes," he replied, "It is always good to see lovers reunited."

"He thought her dead," Adahni said, "I'm... I'm happy."

"I have guessed one of your secrets, Adahni Farishta," Casavir said, a bemused smile playing about his lips.

"And what is that?"

"You told me, several weeks ago, that you had been in love with someone, and I have guessed who it is!"

"Have you now..."

"My old retainer, Jem," Casavir said.

She hesitated. It wasn't entirely a lie, and so she nodded, keeping her eyes on the ground.

"He's a good man," Casavir said, "He needs a woman to do right by him. I wish you the best of luck."

"Are you serious?" she said, looking at him incredulously, "He's married."

"He spoke to me once, a day or so before my wedding," the paladin replied, "I... he, like Vania, married out of necessity. And he is now beginning to know where his heart truly lies."

"I ought to tell your priest on you," Adahni said, grinning in spite of herself. Her feelings for the paladin had always been serious and heavy, but her feelings for Jem - which she was surprised had survived as long as they had, always in the back of her mind - were light and funny and just... happy.

"We are all only human," the paladin said.

"Not Khelgar, he's a dwarf," Adahni quipped.

"You know what I mean," he said, but kept smiling. The smile faded from his face after a moment, and as she turned to leave, he placed a hand on her shoulder, "My lady?"

"Yes?"

"I have been meaning to apologize for my drunken words that night at the Flagon."

"Which ones," Adahni muttered.

"Well, all of them. Firstly for accusing you of being in love with the ranger," he said, "I know in my heart that you truly have nothing in common with him, that you are above him in every way."

"Really," she said. All of a sudden, her stomach stopped fluttering and started feeling downright sick, "Nothing in common with him..."

"Secondly, I know perfectly well that you're female," Casavir said, "But you resemble so little women like Vania, I feel that you are more like me than like her. That is what I meant."

"Cas, you are lousy at apologies," she said, trying to laugh ruefully. Thankfully, the conversation was interrupted by Jem himself coming out of the barracks and approaching to speak with them, "What are you doing here, Quarely?" Adahni asked, "You're a family man with a peace-time trade."

"I left her," he declared, "Caught her in bed with the boy we hired to help till the fields."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Casavir said.

"I'm not," Jem said, "Though I suppose I'll miss little Jem, and eventually he'll get old enough to wonder where I am."

"You'll have to die honorably in service to Neverwinter," Adahni said, "That's really your only way out at this point."

He looked at her in confusion, and she burst out laughing.

"I never in a million years would have thought that the frightened rabbit of a girl that wandered into the village square that day would be anything of a soldier, let alone a captain," Jem said.

"I'm downright full of surprises," Adahni said, shrugging, "Though I'll tell you, I have trouble believing it myself some days."

"I must take my leave of you, captain," Casavir said formally, and winked at her. She rolled her eyes.

"If it weren't midmorning, I'd ask if you wanted to go get an ale," Jem said.

"If I weren't a drunkard, I wouldn't say yes to an ale midmorning," Adahni said, grinning, "I'm joking, I'm joking, the ale can wait until drinking time. Would you like to see the castle? Actually... scratch that. I don't know how stable the new masonry is and I imagine whatever Khelgar and Helvynn are doing might shake loose a few stone."

"Well, I see there are some untamed wilds up above here," Jem said, "Care to go on a ramble?"

"Sure, why not?" Adahni said.

They spent the better part of the day wandering the woods in awkward silence. The woods were thick, such that little light filtered down through the branches of the pines that made up most of them, and the ground was carpeted in their soft needles. They walked in a decidedly uphill fashion and eventually emerged on a cliffside high over the keep. They paused and looked at each other for a moment.

"So what does this mean, Addie?" he asked.

"What do you want it to mean?"

"I... when I left Talia, I thought I'd just go on a few adventures, and then..."

"And then?" she asked.

"And then, I'd find you," he said somberly.

"And then what, Jem?" she asked, turning to him.

"I thought..."

"Do you know what we're up against?" she said, holding his gaze.

"I don't care," he replied, "Don't you think there's a reason our paths have crossed again?"

"Yes, her name's Katriona," Adahni said, raising an eyebrow.

"No," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders, "Don't you think there's a _reason, _a high reason? I think the Gods must have sent me here..."

"Really, Jem? Did you go and get religion on me?" Adahni asked, chuckling.

"Well I'm not about to start attending services every day, but don't you think that it's a little odd that I would wind up here, in your service? Of all the places I could have gone?"

"It's a coincidence," Adahni said, "And I hope it's a nice one... but it's still a coincidence."

"I didn't even know who the captain of Crossroad Keep was, when Katriona said we'd be going there," he said, "But I went."

"I'm not sure what you're getting at," Adahni said. That was a lie, she was reasonably sure of what he was getting at.

"Addie, since Casavir's wedding, I haven't been able to get you out of my head," he said, "It wasn't fair what Talia was doing to me, and so I decided not to take it any more. I'm taking my life into my own hands, like you told me to do all that time ago. I'm taking up the sword again, in defense of... oh, I don't know what..."

"Everything, Jem," she said, "Everything you ever knew or loved in this world is in danger."

"My point is, that led me to you," he said, "I think our fates are intertwined, somehow..."

For some reason, his words made her think of Bishop, first as a little boy in Luskan, then as the bitter young man who had shown up at her uncle's tavern. _If anyone's fates were intertwined, _she thought, _it would have to be mine and his. Just my luck to be stuck with the biggest bastard this side of the..._

"Perhaps," she said, "Fate or no fate, you're here now, and I'm glad for it."

"Are you?"

"I realized several things today," she said, "First, that even should the shadows sweep across the land, there are a few things they will never be able to touch, and second, that self-denial is an exercise both in futility, and stupidity."

"And what can't they touch?"

"Well, for one," she said, "Love."

"Love, eh?" he said, and she saw the blood rise to his face once more.

"Oh, please, like it isn't obvious," she sighed.

"It hasn't been," he replied.

"When I met you," she said, "You were the first kind face I had seen in years. So... yes, I could not help myself."

He smiled faintly and nodded, "And you were the first person I'd ever met who seemed to need me to take care of you. And now... you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself."

"You'd be surprised," she said, sighing.

"So I've left my wife," he said, "I'm finally having that adventure."

"You told me as much," she replied, "So, has it been adventurous?"

"Better than slaying orcs," he said, "Addie... do you think I'm a bad person?"

"No," she said, after a short silence, "Incredibly unlucky... but not bad."

"Unlucky," he sighed, "Yes, yes I suppose I am. So, how have you been? How many pretty lads do you have at your beck and call now?"

She laughed and shook her head, ruefully, "I seem to be the only one of my company who has not found an arm to hang off. Except for Bishop, and he's unpleasant enough for two already."

Jem nodded his agreement, "So be with me," he said, "Take me with you on your journeys. I may not be a great warrior, but I can warm your bedroll and patch you up when you're wounded."

"It's not that simple," she sighed, "None of us truly know how bad it's going to get, how powerful this King of Shadows is. It's not that I don't trust you, Jem, it's that..."

"It's that what?" he asked, looking at her, his blue eyes searching her face.

"My feelings for your go beyond that of commander and subordinate," she said, "I made the mistake once of falling in love with someone under my command, and it has pained me greatly."

Jem nodded slowly, and she could tell he was trying to figure out who it was.

"You can spend nights in my quarters," she said, "But by day, you're just another Greycloak. Do you understand?"

He was silent for a moment.

"Do you understand, Jem?" she asked, "I'm not in any kind if position to give you what you want."

"You're just interested in a bedmate, are you," he said quietly.

"And you're looking for someone to replace your wife. Oh, sure, she was unfaithful, but she was reliable, safe," she said, almost angrily, "If I was going to be that person for anyone, it would be you, but you have to understand the position I'm in!"

He nodded.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "That was out of line."

"Well," he said, "I'm weary of sleeping alone. I suppose I'll take what I can get."

She rolled over to look him in the eye. "If we're all alive when this mess is over," she said, "I will take you adventuring. We can roam the hills and slay dragons until our hands are too aged to hold a sword. I promise."

He smiled slightly, and kissed her, relieving a tension that had been in both of them since the moment he arrived, "I'll hold you to it."

_There are few things, _Adahni thought as he spread his cloak on the warm rock of the cliffside and laid her down, _More pleasant than making love under the summer sun. This, at least, is worth saving the world for._


	63. What the Illefarn Left Behind

She called her companions together around a table later that night, after the sun had set and she had picked what she thought were the last of the pine needles from her hair. Sitting at the head of it made her feel more important than she really was, "It's good to see all of you again," she said, "Those that have been away, I have missed your company. For those of you who have not had the opportunity to meet her, this is Zhjaeve, she is a priestess of... well I'm not entirely sure... but either way, she's not a githyanki and so you oughtn't treat her like one. She's given us some powerful information on how to proceed against this... King of Shadows. We'll be heading out to the ruins of an Illefarn city first thing tomorrow morning to complete a ritual which will aid us greatly in the fight ahead. She will need to accompany me, of course, and I would like to ask for volunteers to come along as well. I anticipate that this will be... difficult."

Shandra and Casavir's hands flew into the air, and she nodded.

"You're going to want me along," Bishop said sourly. He had been sullen and withdrawn since he had appeared out of the woods one day three weeks beforehand. She had not asked where he'd been or what he'd been doing, but whatever it was, he had returned in a lousy mood indeed. He'd even refused the room she had offered him in the keep, and had taken to pitching a tent just outside the walls of the courtyard.

"And why is that?" she asked.

"I know the area where these ruins are," he said, "Or does the _Captain _have no further need for her humble tracker?"

"All right, Shandra, Casavir, you'll be coming with. If you'll excuse me, I need to have a word with my humble tracker in private."

Sand clucked his tongue behind his teeth and Neeshka let out a low "oooh," as she passed the ranger, as a child would to a schoolmate who was about to get a tongue-lashing from his teacher.

"Enough of the mockery, Bishop," Adahni said, when the door had clicked shut behind them.

"Mockery? There's no mockery," he said, "I'm just addressing you by your new title... as a lapdog for Nasher." He drew closer to her, and some of the sarcasm left his voice, "Is that how you want to sepnd the rest of your days? With a squire by your side, a painted shield, and some pathetic code of honor to keep your back stiff as a board?"

"Do you really think I care about the nobility beyond getting more coin? And don't lie to me... wouldn't you like fifty Greycloaks to ask 'how high' every time you tell them to jump?" she retorted.

"Good point," Bishop sighed, "And a lordly sum's hard for any knight to ignore. I guess I've been let down enough to wonder sometimes - good to see you aren't one of those. But you've been riding on a mighty high horse these past weeks. I'm not sure I like it. You're forgetting who you are."

"Who I am? This is who I am," she said, "Whether I like it or not, I'm the leader of these men, and if I want to keep being their leader, I have to at least pretend to act like one. In public."

"But underneath it all, you're a two-copper whore from the Luskan Docks. I think you ought to remember all of that the next time you want to take an attitude with me," Bishop said.

"Was that a threat?" she asked, her voice soft and dangerous, "Because Captain or no Captain, I'm still the five foot tall girl who busted your nose without even breaking a sweat. I think you ought to take a little more care with your words. And, while we're at it, I think you ought to tell me just exactly where you have been."

"I was retrieving something of mine that I've been missing for long years now," he said.

"And what's that?" she asked.

He reached into his pocket, took something out, and handed it to her. It was a silver ring in the shape of a coiled snake with red garnet eyes. She caught her breath, remembering it as one that Kyla had always worn.

"Where... where did you get this?"

"Evendyn Claven liked to collect trophies," he said, "It was a matter of slipping into the house he keeps in Luskan and snatching it back."

"Why now?"

"Nobody lives there," he said, "With his widow in prison..."

"Are you all right?" she asked, "It must be hard..."

"I just wanted it back," he replied, setting his jaw and looking away, "It was our mother's, and her mother's before that."

She nodded, not wanting to correct him. She handed it back to him.

"Keep it," he said, "My hands are too big for it."

"I couldn't possibly," she said, "It was your mother's."

"And now it's yours," he said, "Wear it well."

She slipped it onto her right hand and felt a crackle of magic. All her bardic knowledge told her that this ring was very old, and probably much more powerful than Bishop or even Kyla had known. Seeing it on her finger, all the old feelings from those dark years in Luskan flooded to the fore. She'd had to ease it off Kyla's swollen finger once so that she could reset the bone that a john had broken. The ring had been there when Kyla patched her up after she'd been roughed up by the half-orc brothers. The garnet eyes of the snake had borne silent witness to all the dark deeds done to both of them.

She must have been staring, for she started when the ranger put his hand on her shoulder.

"It will never be over," he said quietly, "Every cruelty, every horrid thing done to either of us is still being done today. It will never end. It's not a happy world that you're setting out to save."

"It's the only world I have."

"Would it truly be so bad if you turned your back? If you took off into the wilds, never to be seen again?" he asked, "How can you be so sure you're even doing the right thing?"

"I'm not," she said, "But at least I'm trying."

He shook his head, and stalked off into the night. She went to her chamber and found that Jem had made himself quite at home, sitting on the edge of her bed and reading a book. She stripped off her armor and hung it in the ample wardrobe that Nasher's funds had outfitted her with, and climbed into bed.

"Well isn't this positively domestic," Adahni said, giggling, "In an actual bed no less!"

"And now you're going to tell me you have a headache and just want to go to sleep?" Jem said.

"Precisely," she said. She blew out the candle by the bedside, rolled over, and closed her eyes. In the moonlight, she half-saw Jem roll over to put his arm around her, and then pause.

"Where did you get that ring?" he asked.

"It was a gift, why?" she said.

"My grandmother had one quite like it," he said, "The snake with the garnet eyes? She always wore it... you should have heard the fuss my mother made when she passed it on to my aunt instead of her!"

"Your aunt?"

"Yeah... she was a bit of a black sheep, you know? They'd cut off most contact with her when she married... but when my grandmother died, she left her the ring," he said, "Never mind... probably just from the same jeweler." He kissed her on the back of the neck, and tucked his head into her shoulder to go to sleep. Adahni took the ring off her finger and placed it on the night stand. She spent the night staring into the snake's garnet eyes, positive that there was something critical that Jem was not telling her.

* * *

The ruins of Arvahn lay deep in the mountains to the north, the hills rising around them in a protective ring. True to his word, Bishop had gotten them there with minimal fuss, scampering over hill and dale as he was wont to do. He had not said a word about the shirtless man he'd seen sheepishly leaving Adahni's chamber as the bugler sounded reveille at dawn, nor had he said really much of anything. Zhjaeve spoke a little, but her words were pompous and grandiose, and by the time they arrived, Adahni was thoroughly annoyed with her.

The ruins themselves bespoke a grand past for the site. As she gazed up at them, she wondered at the civilization that must have dwelt there. She could decipher a few of the runes that decorated the first buildings they came to, as far as she could tell it was a few verses of some epic poem.

"We have arrived," Zhjaeve announced pettily, "I can still feel the touch of the Illefarn around us... and beneath us."

"So, what, precisely is it that brings us here?" Adahni asked.

"Know that we must find the five statues of Angharradh if we are to complete the Ritual of Purification. These statues are within these ruins, if our sources are true. Without undergoing the ritual, we cannot defeat the King of Shadows. We must make haste - the sooner we complete the Ritual, the sooner we can take the battle to our enemy."

"Good enough for me," Shandra said, "Let's have a look around."

They had made it halfway up the path when they heard the sounds of battle. In the shadow of what had been such a great city, a few smelly orcs and goblins were going at it, in full view of a large statue. She approached it cautiously. It depicted a figure - male or female she was not entirely sure. As she drew close, its stone eyes seemed to focus on her, and an unearthly voice issued from deep within it.

"In ancient times, the Guardian was created to protect Illefarn. If the time has come to dismantle our Great Instrument, you will be an agent of its destruction. Take this blessing of camaraderie. May its power strike down all who oppose you and your allies." She jumped back as light poured from the base of the statue and enveloped her in a soft glow.

"The first part of the ritual is complete," Zhjaeve announced.

"Our enemy's home is everywhere darkness lie," Adahni spoke the words without knowing why, and the voice that issued from her mouth was not her own, but the hollow voice that had come from the statue. As she finished her sentence, the light around her winked out, and she had full command of herself again.

"That wasn't a little creepy," Shandra commented, "You all right, Addie?"

"Yeah, I think I am," Adahni replied, though she was still entirely unsettled.

"Know that though the King of Sahdows may become legions, this ritual may still be used to drive him back," Zhjaeve announed.

"That was kind of the point, wasn't it?" Adahni said, petulantly

"Know that the other statues are probably located in the buildings that yet stand," Zhjaeve said.

"You know," Adahni said as they made their way further up the hill towards the great stone structures, many of which seemed intact, "You don't have to start every sentence with "know." It's entirely unnecessary and only serves to irritate people."

"Know that my command of your language is not as great as yours," Zhjaeve replied, but Adahni felt sure that the damn gith was mocking her.

The area showed signs of post-Illefarn habitation; a crudely-constructed fence here, a tent or two there, and, most noticeably, an encampment of sorts located half-way up the hills. Its inhabitants were orcs, from the smell of it, but though they trained arrows on the band as they approached, they did not attack them.

"What now?" Shandra asked.

"I say we turn back," Casavir said, "I am not well-liked by orcs."

This turned out to be correct, as a one-eyed brute that looked to be the chief approached them. "You!" he growled, "I know you. You are the one who slew my brother Logram at Old Owl Well! I should kill you for that."

"I..." Casavir began.

"Shut up," hissed Adahni, "You're no good at this." She cleared her throat to indicate that she was the leader. "I had no idea Logram was your kin. If I had known he was the brother of one so powerful, Master..."

"Uthanck," the chief grunted, "There is power in numbers, in strength... and in knowing when to fight. In this, my brother was weak. He was too stupid for his own good."

"But you are smarter," Adahni said, her words dripping with honey.

"I know you're not here to claim these lands for Neverwinter. You want something in these ruiuns, yes?" Uthanck said, "Well, little humanoid, I want things too. For one, I want Ghellu out of Riverguard Keep. The ogre mage taunts me from the inside, and my orcs are too dumb to ignore him. Swear to pluck this thorn from my side and the Corpsewalker Clan will leave you in peace."

"You seem like the reasonable sort," Adahni said, actually meaning it, "Very well, we have an agreement."

Uthanck waved her away, "May Gruumsh grant you victory or a swift, painless death."

They went further up the hill to a building which seemed to have grown out of the mountain on which it was situated. "Know that in here lies the site for the ritual of purification," Zhjaeve said.

"What is this place?" Adahni asked. The runes carved into the walls here were of the same alphabet, but arranged in such a way that she could not gather much meaning from them.

"A temple, if my sense see true," Zhjaeve said.

"All right," Adahni said, "How?"

"My people are attuned to certain energies of the will... and the energies that are left behind. This is the right place."

"Great," grumbled Adahni, "You have a hunch. I'm so glad I hauled my sorry ass all the way here on a hunch."

The room they entered was lit by an ethereal blue light that emanated from large clusters of crystals set into the walls. It was set around with statues of warriors, armed to the teeth. In the center was a smaller statue of a bard, playing a long-necked lute. Below it was an inscription, which Adahni stooped to see closer. Unlike the other runes, this bit was in Elven script, which was the first language she had learned to read and write.

"The Temple of Seasons is dedicated to the veneration of Elythyn, Vigar, Bluecloak, and Beleran, four knight heroes of the united kingdom of Illefarn," she read out loud for the benefit of her human companions, none of whom had had the fortune or misfortune to have been raised by an elf, "They gave their lives that their kin might live in peace and accord. Across our lands, we honor each in turn at the hears of their seasons. Within these halls, we honor them forever." Her eyes followed to the bottom of the plaque, which bore a more distinct inscription.

"What does that one say?" Casavir asked, "It may give us a clue as to the location of our target."

"In this, the hundred-and-tenth year of the Guardian, this temple underwent renovation to house and protect a Statue of Purification," Adahni translated, "As the four knights long ago guarded our last hipes in life, may they do so once more in death." She frowned at the last word, finding it unfamiliar.

"I don't know this last word," she said.

"Sound it out," Shandra offered.

"An-nigh-us," Adahni said, "It's not familiar to me, perhaps it's an archaic form of..."

Bishop had popped his head over her shoulder, "It's his name, you idiot," he said, "Annaeus."

"How'd you know that?" Adahni asked, looking at him sharply.

"Look, it's set off to the side. It's a signature."

"Oh," Adahni said, sheepishly, "Well I'm glad you're pulling your weight for once."

Bishop snorted, but said nothing. Zhjaeve approached a door set into the northern wall of the temple and opened it. A blast of frigid air greeted them, and as they walked in, they stumbled, for the floor was a layer of ice. The same eerie blue light lit this room, and reflected off the slick floor. Adahni wrapped her cloak tighter around her and approached a small pedestal set into the floor in the center of the room.

"The Trial of Winter," she read aloud, "Vigar of Stone Hearth was the lone dwarven hero of the Knights of the Seasons. In the company's most difficult battles, he was the last to leave the field. In the final struggle against the Great Evil, Vigar was the last to fall, enduring an onslught of blows before finally succumbing. In his sacrifice, he bought time for all the citizens of Illefarn."

"I wonder what Great Evil," Shandra mused.

"Does it matter? Read the rest!" Bishop barked.

"Winter's challenge is enduring the cold. Turning the page will begin the trial," Adahni read, "There's always a bloody challenge, isn't there... nothing can just be easy."

"Turn the page. We are ready," Casavir said.

She turned the page. Almost immediately, it began snowing. Inside. From the ceiling. In the whirl of white flakes, she could barely make out whatever it is that had begun pelting the lot of them with magic missiles, and she raced forward, lashing out with her rapier. It made contact with something small and in midair, and drawing it back, she saw that she had impaled an ice mephit, a little flying demon. She then heard a roar and whirled to see an enormous white wolf baring its fangs at her. She stepped back, and it launched itself at her. With a cry, she brought her arms up to protect her throat, but the blow she had braced herself for never came. Instead, Casavir's cudgel came down on the beast's head, cracking its skull.

"Enduring the cold indeed!" she exclaimed, "These Illefarn had some strange ideas..."

As it turned out, the rest of the temple was much in the same line of thinking. They battled elementals, golems, and demons, in the rain and fire and lightning. Bishop and Shandra both took quite a beating, but Zhjaeve proved her worth in keeping the lot of them alive while they lashed out at the creatures with everything they had. In the very center of the temple, which they were allowed through after beating down some woodland nymphs in the Trial of Autumn, were four stone sarcophagi, and in front of them, a statue much like the first one they had seen.

"These are knights who fell in battle in service to their people, their countries," Casavir said softly. This is a great memorial... yet somehow, it doesn't feel enough to contain them." He gazed upon the gisants.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Is this how all noble deeds end?" he mused.

"Like _she'd _know," quipped Bishop. The paladin ignored him.

"Does any worthy cause last only as long as there are those to fight for it... and die for it? And what if there is noone left who believes in such things? Such sacrifice was something rarely seen when I lived upon the streets of Neverwinter... and even rare elsewhere," Casavir continued.

"Such acts occur in Neverwinter every day - smaller, quieter, perhaps, but not less heroic," Adahni said, thinking about Wolf, the street child whom she had seen protect others with the ferocity of a mother bear.

"Perhaps you are right," Casavir said, the troubled expression leaving his face, "It only requires that one be willing to see them. And the consequences of such small sacrifices can be just as great. My lady..." he began, and then hesitated.

"Out with it, you great lout," Bishop said obnoxiously, "I don't feel like standing here all day with a bunch of ancient corpses."

"Shut up!" Shandra hissed.

"I ask that if I fall in battle, that I be buried here, in this temple. It is quiet, few visit here... and I have many questions I would ask those already here," he said, "I need to know if what we do makes a difference - but only after I no longer have a choice in life."

"Cas, you'll outlive the lot of us," Adahni said, "Certainly Bishop if he doesn't learn to mind his tongue."

"I thought that was your job, _my lady,_" Bishop sneered.

Adahni threw her hands up to show she was done with his bullshit for the day. She approached the statue. Like the first one, its eyes found her, and it began to speak, repeating the line about the Guardian being created to protect the Illefarn, only this one offered a blessing of cleansing.

"The second part of the ritual is complete," Zhjaeve said, "Feel the power of the Illefarn fill you - and see what it is you stand against." Adahni felt herself once again enveloped in a calm light, but as she started to allow herself to surrender to it, she began to feel less and less at ease. Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and Zhjaeve jumped back from the statue. "He knows... he knows what we are doing!" she exclaimed, her voice betraying her fear, "But..." she began, regaining her composure, "You have learned how to place the power of this ritual between you and him, like a barrier, and if he attempts to break it, he will only wound himself."

When they exited the temple, the sun had already gone down over the hills to the west. They were all showing signs of fatigue, and Shandra and Bishop needed a good night's rest to soothe their wounds. They wet back into the temple, to the room of the Trial of Spring, and spread out their bedrolls in the artificially pleasant climate therein. Filled with the peace of a culture long gone, Adahni closed her eyes, and slept the sleep of the dead.


	64. Ghosts

It was raining when they left the temple the next morning. Bishop volunteered to hunt some small game so they'd have something to eat, and Adahni, who wasn't great with a bow and arrow, but who could still throw a knife with deadly accuracy, agreed to go with him. The two of them huddled in an promising place in the nearby woods and waited for something edible to come by.

"I see you're wearing the ring," Bishop said.

"Of course I am," she replied, "It was Kyla's. But there's one thing that's still bothering me."

The ranger rose in a single fluid motion and loosed an arrow. She heard a squawk and a thump. He leapt over a log and picked up his prey by the neck. It was a wild turkey, a cock by the look of it, quite large enough to feed the five of them.

"You still haven't told me why you hate the Quarelys so much," she said, "And something Jem said last night..."

"You mean you haven't put the pieces together yet, Addie?" Bishop said, "I'm disappointed in you."

"If it is what I think it is, the problem would have had to go back a generation or more!" she said, "No reason for you to bear a grudge."

He turned to her and put his free hand on her shoulder, gripping it tightly. "There is_ always_ a reason to bear a grudge," he said fiercely, "It was a wrong that not only has never been righted, but it gave rise to a whole slew of other wrongs, many of which you are already more privy to than I'm happy with. Now, why don't you ask your damned lover why."

"He's not the one with the chip on his shoulder the size of a white dragon," Adahni said, "Though Gods know he deserves one..."

"You think he's been telling you the truth, eh?" Bishop said, "He's bad news, just like everyone else from the Gods-forsaken village. I can't say I'm sorry that it burned. I'm only sorry that anybody got away."

"I got away," she said quietly.

"Great, you got away," he growled, "So you can be a living reminder of all the things that happened in Luskan, a walking, talking testament to just how cruel people are to each other... yes, I'm just _ecstatic_ that you got away." By the time he reached the end of the sentence, his voice was raising to the point of cracking, and she heard once more what he had sounded like, before all of this, the tears on the young boy's face. Instinctively, she darted forward and put her arms around him, like she had one morning long, long before. He did not make a move to do the same, but did not push her away.

"You really ought to make up your mind what you think of me," she said quietly into his ear, "I am fully prepared to release you from my service, if that's what would make you happy."

"Just leave me in peace," he muttered, disentangling himself from her, and starting back towards the rest of their companions.

"Very well," Adahni said, frightened by his sudden change in behavior. They walked in stony silence back to the temple, where Shandra had coaxed a firebrand from the Trial of Summer into a merry blaze. They cooked their impromptu meal, chewed in silence until the bird was a memory, and then set out to see what else there was to find.

To the west of the temple was a door sent directly into the hillside, that Shandra identified as a mine. However, when they got inside, they saw a library, with books scattered everywhere. Adahni picked one up to examine it, but it had lain there for so long, and was so old, that it crumbled to dust beneath her touch. She mourned the loss of so ancient a document, but was put out of her revery by a hollow voice.

"The dust upon the floor stires beneath your feet... what brings one of flesh and blood to this empire of spirits?"

Faintly, in the bluish glow of the crystalline lights, she saw the outline of a spector, and elf by the look of him. His translucent eyes were fixed on her.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"In life, my name is Balaur. Now there are none with tongues or minds to speak it. I was the lorekeeper here before darkness came to Illefarn."

"What are all these books?" she asked, "I dare not touch them to read, but I am eager to know what they contain."

"They are the last remaining lore of ancient Illefarn," Balaur said, "In life, I tended to them, sheltered them, and even in death, I could not allow them to crumble as Illefarn did." Adahni glanced guiltily at the one that had met an unfortunate end beneath her fingertips. "Many came to this place in search of knowledge, and I was able to guide them. Those days are gone, but my purpose still burns true."

"Are there any you can share with me?" Adahni asked.

"Here, take these tomes," Balaur's said, "I had nearly completed them at the time of my death. They hold much of the days of Illefarn within them." One translucent arm reached out to point to a pile of books which looked a bit newer than the others. Adahni picked them up, and found them solid to the touch.

"Thank you, I appreciate the gift," she said politely.

"They are as much my memory as I can scribe to words... and it is a vain hope, but perhaps the lessons of ur fall may help prevent another."

"Learning from the past is not this one's strong suit," Bishop muttered.

"I hope you're right," Adahni said, "But I admit that I didn't come here for books."

"No..." the spirit said, his voice going as dry and dusty as the tomes with which he surrounded himself, "You came because of the Guardian. His echoes are strong in this place, and the spirits have whispered of his return."

"This Guardian and the King of Shadows are one in the same?"

"Perhaps. Ages pass, and names change. I have exited longer as a spirit than as a breathing, blooded elf, and I know little of the world beyond my books. The Guardian was once a man. A hero of Illefarn, in days long gone. He saw more clearly than most. He saw the threats that might destroy all we had build, and he sacrificed everything, that our empire might live," Balaur said, "A creature of magic he became, and an extension of the very Weave. Our enemies, the men of Netheril, feared to face him, so they turned their eyes to weaker prety. By the Guardian's sacrifice, Illefarn was saved."

"But it all went to the hells, didn't it," Adahni said.

"We thought the Weave eternal, and endless font of life from which the guardian might draw. In this, we were wrong. The Weave failed, and the guardian faced a choice. Allow himself to die, and leave Illefarn undefended, or draw his life from another source. For the sake of his people, the Guardian turned to the Weave's dark twin. And thus, he became a creature of Shadow."

"Unfortunate," Adahni said, "But, as sad as it is, I still have my own hide to save. We're going to have to destroy him."

"Destroy... yes. My people made several such attempts, and we never succeeded. But if you hope to thwart him, you are right to seek the statue here. It lies within the stone Communion tree, a blending of arboreal and tererestrial. It symbolized the union of Illefarn's dwarven and elven peoples. Opening the tree requires similar unity - three elves and three dwarves of Illefarn, spaced equally around its trunk. Without these six, the Tree will remain closed to you."

"This still leaves the problem of finding six citizens of a city long destroyed," Adahni said, furrowing her brow.

"You will find that I am not the only spirit to dwell within these walls," Balaur said, a faint smile playing across his features, "The ritual spawned legions of foul undeed. Harmless to me, but given the chance they will drag you with them. Once you have exterminated them, I believe some of the spirits of those long dead will appear."

"Thank you for your counsel," Adahni said.

The spirit of the lorekeeper was correct. As they crept cautiously out of the library and into the room beyond, they were met with a wall of what Adahni had begun to refer to affectionately as "Ghast-stank." By now, all of them had been enveloped in the stench so many times that it no longer triggered their gag reflexes. The small army of ghasts, the "stank" being their major defense, fell soon, revealing their leader. It resembled a zombie, his face drawn and decomposing, but was dressed in full battle armor.

"What in the hells is that?!" Shandra shouted over the sound of falling ghasts.

"Baelnorn," Adahni said instinctively matching the bluish, rotting horror of a face to an illustration in one of Daeghun's books, "Elves that forsook their lives in exchange for undeath and great power... much like our Guardian I suppose. I suppose, though, that this fellow's similarly been turned evil. We're going to have to take him down fast, I hear they pack quite a wallop!"

Take it down they did, though it took a long time, and more than one of them wound up with stab wounds that Zhjaeve had to patch up once the creature had fallen. As she closed an injury in Shandra's knee, a hollow voice issued from the ground where the baelnorn had fallen.

"Is it done, then?" the translucent spirit of an elf asked, "Has the fool ended himself? Or did the ritual fail entirely?"

"This shade is cycling through events of the past... and perhaps has been ever since his death," Zhjaeve explained, "I cannot say this for certain, but it is likely the one he is peaking of is the one who became the guardian."

"You're not very observant, are you," Adahni said, "Everything here ended because of him. The whole place is a graveyard for those he destroyed. Every single thing that occurs here, occurs because of him. Of course he will be referred to!" She turned to address the spirit, deciding that playing along was probably the best idea, "The ritual was a success. The Guardian lives."

"What a waste," the spirit lamented, "A waste, do you hear? And you can tell Annaeus that I said as much. I did not tutor that boy for twenty years only to have him turned into some mindless monstrocity!"

"Annaeus," Bishop mused, "We've heard that one before."

"Did you try to stop him?" Adahni asked the spirit.

"Yes, I tried," the spirit sighed, "But I hadn't been his master in ten years. Not long, for an elf, but half an eternity for a human. I simple 'didn't understand.' He was always the patriot, "Sacrifices must be made, for the good of all. Illefarn is a great nation and preserving it is our responsibility." Well, I say this. Let the weak and worthless make the sacrifices. That boy had a mind in his bone-cage! He might have advanced the study of magic, but instead, he threw it all away. For "love of country.""

"Foolish notion," she sniffed.

"Just another tool of Kings and nobles, used to wring more blood from peasants and fools," Bishop agreed.

"I think you are wrong," Casavir said, "There is nobility in such a sacrifice, though it may be hard for some to see."

"I heard how it ended for him," the spirit said, "Lying there screaming for near a hundred days, with that fool girl at his bedside, as the Weave slowly burned away what was left of him, bit by bit... but he got his wish, didn't he? Lost himself and became the Guardian. All that he was... all gone."

Adahni nodded her understanding, "I need your help, can you follow me?"

"Very well, I suppose I shall," the spirit said. He shuffled after them into the next room, a huge atrium centered around a great, petrified tree. At the sight of the tree, he seemed to know what to do, and stepped forward, putting his feet on a large circle in the pattern on the floor. When she stepped back to see the whole picture, Adahni saw that there were five other such circles, presumably for the five other spirits.

"It's going to be a long day," she said, sighing, "I presume there are more ghosts where he came from, presumably with similar stories. And similar huge battle-zombies guarding them."

"Let's get this over with," Casavir said, his voice betraying annoyance, probably at her siding with Bishop on the issue of patriotism.

"Yes," she said, "Let's. Steel yourselves. I have a feeling this is about to get much less pleasant."

As usual, she had no idea how correct she was.


	65. Drowning

They spent the next day battling goblins, ogres, and other nasty little beasties in the nearly intact castle known as Riverguard Keep, and were rewarded with a fourth statue in the basement of said keep. The next day, after handing the head of the erstwhile occupant, and ogre mage, to a grateful Uthanck, they camped near the village - close enough for protection but not close enough to smell the stench of unwashed orc - licking their wounds and planning for the next step. It appeared to come in the form of an Illefarn "song portal" - some ancient device that allowed transportation over miles and miles in the blink of an eye. The companions had fallen into a bit of a funk, as it were. Shandra seemed to be on her courses and was appropriately moody, while the constant bickering between the ranger and the paladin had fallen into a stony silence where each ignored the other's presence entirely. In the light of the shimmering song portal, Adahni felt a sort of peace, but could sense no similar relaxation from her companions.

"Know that this may be an Illefarn portal," Zhjaeve intoned as they approached it, "The Illefarn had many such portals, called song portals, that linked their vast empire together. They were unlocked by the singing of the Illefarn people, rather than keys of metal or stone."

"So, we need to be singing?" Adahni asked, raising her eyebrows, "Singing what?"

"Know that I am unsure," Zhjaeve said, the place were her eyebrows would have been if she had had them furrowing, "My studies have indicated that the song ought to be one of value to the person wishing to travel, and need not necessarily be a specific or even an Illefarn song."

"So we've come all this way, been wounded near death on a daily basis, and you're unsure?" Adahni yelped, "By all the Gods, Gith, if this doesn't work I will send you back to your own plane so fast you won't know what hit you..."

"Know that your outburst is entirely unnecessary," Zhjaeve said calmly, "We have not yet failed."

"Fine," Adahni said, "A song, any song? Well here goes..."

_"I'm a rambler, I'm a gambler I'm a long way from home..."_

In a flash of blue, the companions instantaneously ceased to be where they were, and came to be... elsewhere. The smell hit Adahni before anything else, a smell that was soothingly familiar at its core, but had the stench of death hovering around the edges of it. The combination filled her with dread as her eyes adjusted to the misty twilight that hung over them and she looked, with horror, on what was before, behind, and all around her.

"What is this place?" Shandra said, looking around her, "It looks like a ruined village, but..."

"It's..." Adahni sighed, tears springing to her eyes as she looked about, "It's West Harbor."

"Or what's left of it," Bishop added, but he put a comforting hand on her shoulder all the same.

"Know that these are not the Illefarn ruins we seek. Is this your birth village?" Zhjaeve asked.

"Yes, this is my home," Adahni said, "Why are we here?"

"I didn't realize you were from a Mere village..." Shandra said.

"Know that this is not our intended destination," Zhjaeve said again, "Something is wrong."

_Damned right something is wrong! The houses, the people... even the juniper trees have been uprooted... who would have done such a thing?_

"Are there any ancient Illefarn structures near your birth village? If so, that is where we must go."

"Yes, there are," Adahni said, numbly, "It's off, into the swamp. This way."

She walked along the path, at once familiar and terrifyingly new. Corpses littered the ground, not unlike the night she had bade a second farewell to her home, but these corpses did not die in battle. Their faces, which she once had known, were contorted in such expressions of fear and pain that her blood curdled in her veins and she had to look away. She paused by one body, a crumpled mess of crushed bones.

"This was the bravest man I've known," she said, "Whatever made Georg go down screaming like this is not something I want to mess with. We should go on about our business and get out quickly."

They paraded solemnly past the slaughter, past the smoldering wreckage of Adahni's own childhood home, and to the fork in the road where, for as long as she could remember, nothing had ever grown. As she stepped into this blight, this scar upon the earth, she felt a bolt of energy shot through her, right to the scar between her breasts.

"What is this place?" the priestess asked.

"Always been a scar on the ground, no grass ever grew over it," Adahni said, "It was the site of a battle... a long time ago."

"There is a familiar sensation about it... it's not the sound. The vibration is in the air around it... almost metallic. It is powerful... very powerful. This place is a sacred place. Know that when we know more, we should return."

The swamp had shifted since Adahni had last walked that path, nearly a year beforehand, but in the dim and foggy light, she led her band into the stone structure that had lain there from time immemorial. As they drew close, she saw the eerie flicker of firelight inside the stone doorway.

"Oh, Gods," Shandra said, pointing at a shadowy figure standing before what looked to be the final statue of purification. As she pointed, the figure raised its head... or lack thereof... and revealed that where one should be, it had instead only a skull, surrounded in unearthly blue flame.

"It is a thrall of the King of Shadows, a shadow reaver - and there, behind it, is the Statue of Pur-" With a small "pop," the shadow reaver reared up and shot a spout of red flame which crumbled the head of the statue to dust. The companions stared in mute horror as it turned, its perpetual grin seeming to laugh in their faces.

"You have come far," it rumbled, "For nothing. The statue's power is spent, another has taken it. But it will not stop us."

"Another has undergone the Ritual of Purification? You speak lies," Zhjaeve challenged him.

"But it does not matter, The thief has not completed the rest of the ritual, the parts you bear. Once you are slain and the other statues cast down, none shall stand against us."

"Then so long as the other one who completed the ritual lives, we have a chance. All we have to do is defeat you.

"Ah, gith... zerai, you cannot stop me. Why the illithids used your people as slaves is beyond me. It was a waste to you both."

"And why the King of Shadows would use you for a similar purpose is not known to me, but the face that you cannot break his grip tells of your weakness."

Adahni was not entirely sure why the Gith was even engaging in conversation with this creature.

"Weakness? My power is more than enough to defeat you, more than enough to bring these ruins down upon you. Even if you should wound me, I shall reform within the Vale of Merdelain, as strong as before. I cannot be stopped."

"Enough of you and your pissing contest," Adahni growled, "I could give two shits if you reform in the Mere of Dead Men, so long as you shut the fuck up, that's enough for me."

"You are already defeated, you simply do not know it - but you will."

"You're making a mistake," Bishop sighed, "You're going after a woman with absolutely nothing left to lose."

The ranger was right, as usual. Adahni laid into her enemies with her usual ferocity, untempered by any feelings of regret for the lives she would destroy. They struck her again and again with sword and spell. Each new wound brought another wave of rage, and only encouraged her to redouble her efforts until each of the hellish minions were in skeletal fragments on the floor.

"We have only driven it off - it will return, as it said. And there will be more," Zhjaeve said, putting a gray hand on Adahni's shoulder as the bard stomped and stomped, turning the bones into dust on the stone floor of the ruins.

"Now what?" she said, grinding her heel into what had been a grinning skull.

"Know we must find the one the Reaver spoke of - the one who completed the ritual, we will need their aid to defeat the King of Shadows."

"But that could be anyone!" Shandra exclaimed, "We don't even know who that is! I can't believe we came all this way for nothing!"

"Nothing? Know that we have completed four parts of the ritual, we have learned another holds the fifth, and most importantly, we know that our enemy fears our plans."

"I know," Shandra sighed, "I just feel like we should do something."

"Know that this road is at an end, but time may have opened other roads to us. There is hope, you must believe it," the priestess said, "Know that we have two weapons against the King of Shadows. The ritual in all its parts, and a fully-forged sword of the githyanki. We will need the sword, no matter what transpires. Let us pursue that path and perhaps the second path shall be revealed to us."

"So, how do we get a sword?" Adahni asked.

"Ammon Jerro knew much of the githyanki silver swords. Finding his haven and recovering the knowledge of those swords is the only step we may take on this path now. We should return to Crossroad Keep, to the lorekeeper who was imprisoned there with me... Aldanon."

It was the height of summer, when the days were long and hot, but Adahni still felt chilled as they made their way back across the Mere to Crossroad Keep. She would send a troop of Greycloaks to see that the dead were properly buried. She did not have the heart to do it herself. As she climbed the long hill to her castle, she found herself with a feelings she had not had in a long time. She looked up towards her window and found herself yearning to do nothing more than the hurl herself into her lovers arms and let him protect her, at least for a few hours.

She cross the threshold into the courtyard. Her companions immediately scattered; Shandra to her chambers, Casavir to his wife, Zhjaeve to Gods knew where. Only the ranger stayed, standing by her side, not saying anything.

"How do you move on after you've lost everything?" she asked, not looking at him.

"On the contrary," Bishop replied, "It is only when you've lost everything that you can move on. Not to mention the fact that you've hardly lost everything."

"My father, my friends…"

"You have Duncan. You have this keep," Bishop said.

"I suppose," she said.

"You have me," he said.

"Isn't that a great comfort," she snorted, but let out a half-hearted giggle, turned, and clapped him on the back. As she turned, she saw a troop of Greycloaks marching up the path under the banner of the Sword Mountain Militia.

"What news, Katriona?" she called, shading her eyes as the sunlight caught the shining platemail of the soldiers.

"We located a camp of the bandits that have been plaguing your roads, Captain," Katriona said. She broke formation with her men and approached Adahni, "We've driven them from the land. They'll bother us no more."

"Good news, then," Adahni said, smiling.

"Not entirely," Katriona said, sighing. Adahni observed for the first time that the paladin's cheeks had gone thin, her face pale and drawn, "Four of my men fell in siege on the camp."

"Four?"

"Among them was Jem Quarely," Katriona said, "We built a cairn for them on the road to the keep. The weather this time of year is not kind to corpses."

"Corpses," Adahni said, "Yes… I suppose it isn't... I'm going to go lie down."

"Addie, wait!" Bishop called, but she was already charging up the hill, pushing stonemasons and laborers out of her way. She flew past Katriona, through the grand hall, and into her private chamber. There were Jem's shoes, waiting for their master to return, his tunic hanging in her closet, a pile of his spare undershirts in the corner. On the bookshelf were volumes her father had given to her, in the bureau jewelry that she had received from friends, from Amie and Bevil… all of them gone, gone. She barred the door, sat behind it with her back to hit, and screamed until her voice died in her chest and her eyes went dry. Unable to scream, she leapt up and started punching and kicking the heavy wooden door until her knuckles were bloodied and her left big toe broken. Unable to punch any longer, she tore off her headscarf and uncoiled the long braid. Seizing her hunting knife, she hacked off the long black tail and threw it to the ground. The ends of her butchered hair tickled her shoulders. Surprised by the weight that it hade taken off her head, she sat down on the soft mattress she used to share. Sitting became lying down became sleep, and there she stayed for the rest of the day.

The days of summer blended together, as the sun passed her window time and time again. She stared through the walls and at the scenes of her childhood passing before her. She stared at herself and Amie trading secrets in the hollows under a rhododendron bush, she saw Bevil herding his mother's goats along the road, silhouetted against the setting sun. She followed the boats that Daeghun had taught her how to carve from wood as they set them to drift lazily downstream. She saw Emmy and Bryden and the rest of the little Starlings dancing around the bonfire at midsummer, punctuated by images of Jem's face smiling down at her, his eyes calm and blue, of the small wrinkles that formed at their corners when he grinned broadly.

Fourteen or so days into her confinement, she heard a metallic click, and the door swung open. She didn't look up to see who it was. She didn't really care.

"Addie, this is ridiculous," the ranger's raspy voice issued from the doorway, "You're just being a baby now."

"I won't have you talk to my lady like that!" came Casavir's voice from right behind him.

"No, the lad's right!" Khelgar's voice said, "She needs to stop feeling sorry for herself and see to her work!"

"She's hurting," Shandra said, "We need to let her grieve."

"She's _been _grieving for the last two weeks!" Neeshka's voice squealed.

"Know that the King of Shadows will not wait for our leader to get over her losses," Zhjaeve commented.

Reluctantly, Adahni turned over to see what was going on. Every one of her companions had piled in the door, and they were standing like a flight of pigeons, all cooing and clucking at each other. She sat up slowly.

"What now?" she asked, her voice hoarse with disuse.

"It speaks!" Bishop mock-announced.

"Addie, you've seen me through some tough times, and I'll be thrice-damned if I won't see you through this one!" Khelgar said, "And unfortunately, the sort of friendship you need right now, is the dwarven sort."

"What..." Adahni croaked.

She found herself being lifted bodily and tossed over the dwarf's head like a sack of potatoes. Her feet dragged on the ground slightly, and so she bent her knees, trying to get him to put her down. Khelgar, however, was having none of that. He carried her at a running pace out of her chamber, through the castle, and down to the river. She was too stunned to protest until she realized what the dwarf meant to do to her, but it was too late to stop him. Over the bank she went, and found herself staring up at the blurry faces of her companions through ten feet of water. For a moment, she considered staying there, letting the cool water sort of push her slightly this way and that, until she drifted downriver and into the ocean. But, as her lungs grew tight and painful, she knew that she would have to do something...

Her body acted of its own accord, her foot kicking out against the rocky bottom of the river, her arms flapping like wings, bearing her, gasping, to the surface. Her legs treaded numbly as she shook the water from her eyes and spat it from her mouth.

"Was that really necessary?" she demanded, glaring at Khelgar.

"It's an old Ironfist remedy, when someone's been grieving for too long," Khelgar declared proudly to her and her companions, all of whom were standing, still stunned, on the riverbank, "If the spirit is still alive, the person will swim. If it's gone on, they'll simply let themselves drown."

"You would have let me drown here?" Adahni asked.

"Certainly not!" Casavir admonished the dwarf.

"Point is, lass," Khelgar said, "You've suffered a blow, but your legs can still kick and your lungs can still draw breath, and as long as that's still happening, you can finish the task at hand."

"Thanks, Ironfist," Adahni muttered, "Give me a hand, will you?"

"Certainly."

She extended her hand, which Khelgar grabbed. She took the advantage and tugged him off balance, causing him to fall into the water beside her. She then clambered onto the bank and shook herself like a dog, splattering her companions with water.

"The task at hand," she said, "I think I have exactly enough spirit in me to complete the task at hand. After that..."

"After that?" Elanee asked, her face troubled.

"I always knew deep down, somewhere, that this quest would claim my life," Adahni said, "But I didn't accept it fully. I always thought that perhaps I would return to West Harbor, settle down, marry Jem… I was wrong. There is no life after this. Whether I succeed or fail, my world ends with the end of this quest. There is no going back."

"There is never any going back," Neeshka said, "Only forward. Now come on, we're getting back to business. And you're getting a bath. You're beginning to smell like Khelgar."

Several hours later, bathed and dressed, the remnants of her hair tied at the nape of her neck, Adahni found herself in the Phoenix Tail Inn, surrounded by her companions. She realized as she downed her first tankard how she had missed the taste of ale, how her mouth had become unaccustomed to the feel of food. She ate and drank heartily, and by midnight, Neeshka and Khelgar had persuaded her to take up her mandolin and play them a song, if only for old time's sake. She did so, tuning her instrument and plucking out the chords to one she had been turning over in her head for some time.

_It's down where the waters run muddy_

_I'm afraid they will never run clear_

_Where the trees arch over, green and shady_

_In the gloamy dark depths of the Mere_

_Here's a health to you, bonny West Harbor_

_Where life's simple pleasures abound_

_Where a long working day is no trouble_

_And you can throw all your cares to the ground_

_I will mourn for your women and children_

_And every last juniper tree_

_And a curse on whatever dark magic_

_Has taken my homeland from me (3)_

(3) This is to the tune of Kellswater, for those who may be interested.


	66. Two Widows

Over the next month, she slowly packed away Jem's thing in a chest – they barely filled a corner of it – and put it in the very back of her closet, all except one undershirt, which she kept in one of her drawers. The space was once more her own. She grew accustomed to sleeping alone. Soon, it was as though he had never lived there. Painful, but manageable.

A heat wave struck, marking the last throes of summer. One night, trying desperately to stay cool, she lay alone in the bed she used to share, tossing and turning, trying to find a way to lie that did not send the sweat trickling down her back.

She had just begun to drift off as she heard a "plink." She sat up, going to close the window if it were going to rain. As she did, she heard another echo off the glass. She threw upon the windows and looked down.

"Oh good, you're awake," the ranger called. He was standing in the courtyard outside, looking half dressed in a pair of short pants and a cotton undershirt, rather than his customary armor.

"What are you doing?" she called back.

"You slept two weeks straight," he said, "Sleep when you're dead."

"What else ought I to be doing?" she asked.

"You've business to attend to," he replied, "Come down."

"I don't take orders from you. Quite the opposite."

"Well I suppose you don't have to. But you ought to."

She sighed, but went to get dressed again, throwing a cool cotton shift over her head. She had learned to accept being given mysterious errands. Anyway, she reasoned, there would be plenty of time to sleep when she was dead.

"Come on," the ranger said, "We're going to Old Owl Well."

"Why?"

"You're incredibly thick when you want to be, aren't you?" he said, "Come on, I've hired horses."

The moon was full that night and the air damp. She could smell the beginnings of a thunderstorm on the air, and the clouds made a halo around the moon. The horses belonged to one of the keep's employees, and he was happy to give them the lend of them, though Adahni insisted on paying him. She accepted a leg up into the saddle and shimmied her feet into the stirrupts. She lit a smoke as they started off at a walk out of the courtyard of Crossroad Keep. The guards saluted her as she left, and she waved a cloud at him as she past.

"I've figured out why we're going to Old Owl Well," she said, "I haven't figured out why it is you are the one in charge of it."

"I missed you," Bishop said. They were riding through the outlying farms towards the main road.

"What?"

"These past months, since we've been here, since you shacked up with Quarely… I've missed you."

"Isn't that touching," she said.

"He was the last of them," he said.

"Your townsmen?"

"My family," Bishop said, "And I'm the last of his, unless by some miracle that bastard child is his. There are many things I don't believe in when it comes to family, but when the last of them dies I think I maybe ought to be the one to inform his whore of a wife."

Adahni nodded slowly, looking over at him. He set his jaw and nodded. They rode silently through the eerie, misty night for nigh on half an hour before he spoke again.

"My mother was his mother's sister," he said, "She the oldest of three girls. Jem's was the middle sister, she married Cullan Quarely."

_Your mother?_

"My father, the son of a bitch…" he sighed, "She was naïve, and he took advantage of her. When they found out she was pregnant with Kyla, they married her off rather than face the stigma of it. Her mother and sisters stopped speaking to her.

"She had no choice," Bishop said, sighing, "Things were different then… All when I was growing up, my mother would point out the Quarely boys and tell me they were my cousins. But they never spoke to me. I doubt Jem remembers me, but I remember him… when I was five, he cornered me. He told me I was a whore-child, that it was my sister that had given birth to me, that she was no good just like my mother."

Adahni sighed, her heart sinking, "He grew into a kind man," she said, "I'm sorry you never got to see that."

"A kind man, eh?" Bishop said, chuckling ruefully, "And I grew from a little bastard into a big one, is that what you're telling me?"

"Well…" she said.

"It's all right," he said, "To tell you the truth, Kyla and my mother were the only person who's ever been kind to me, and she's dead these long years. It's easy to be a bastard when nobody cares whether you live or die."

"You know that isn't true," Adahni said quietly, "I'm here. I'm coming with you, aren't I?"

"Because you loved him," Bishop said, "Because he was a kind man."

"He saved my life."

"I saved your life."

"And I yours."

"Sun will be coming up in the next couple of hours. It'll be hot as all the hells. We can shelter in that grove over there by the river, try and get some sleep," he said, "Come on."

They laid their cloaks on a bed of pine needles. The trees grew so thickly that even when the sun peeked its head over the horizon, it was nearly dark as night. Adahni slept for a few hours, and woke to see that Bishop was awake, lying on his back with his hands behind his head. Impulsively, she threw her arm over him and, tucking her head against her pack in the cool, loamy air, and went back to sleep.

They rode all of the next night, and most of the one after that, until they arrived in Old Owl Well. They arrived at Talia Quarely's farm as the sun was coming up over the mountains. Bishop walked up and knocked on the door.

A man – boy really, he couldn't have been much older than Bishop – answered the door in his nightshirt.

"I'm looking for Talia Quarely," Bishop growled.

"She's sleeping," the boy said, crossing his arms over his chest, "What business do you have with her?"

"I have news," Bishop said, looking disdainfully at him, "Of her husband."

"Jem? He's long gone. She's not interested," he said, standing his ground. Talia, by this time, had roused herself and come to the door. Her blond hair was long and unkempt. She looked older than she had at the wedding, closer to forty than thirty.

"Both of you out," she commanded, "Let the grown-ups talk."

The boy obeyed immediately, heading back into the house and up the stairs, but Bishop stayed, not responding to Adahni's glare.

"Is he dead?" she asked.

"He is," Adahni said, "I'm very sorry to be the one to tell you this."

"Why, because you were sleeping with him?" Talia asked. She didn't sound angry, but said the words as though stating a fact, like she were telling her how many calves had been born that year or where she could find berries growing wild, "Do you do this courtesy to all your soldiers' widows?"

"She came because I asked her," Bishop said, "Jem…"

"I know who you are, Kyrwan Bishop," Talia said, "Though I didn't think you'd have any sort of conscience to see it as your duty. I suppose Miss Farishta has taught you a thing or two. Don't worry, there's no hard feelings. I wasn't a good wife to him."

"Well isn't that the understatement of the century," Bishop scoffed.

Talia ignored this, "Come in, eat something."

They sat awkwardly at her rough-hewn kitchen table. Adahni took in the small kitchen, the dusty fireplace, Jem's loom standing in the corner, a half-finished web still affixed to it. Talia busied herself, brewing a pot of tea, cracking eggs into a pan.

"He loved you, you know," Talia said off-handedly.

"I know," Adahni replied. She squirmed a little, wanting nothing more than to not be discussing her dead lover with his widow, and in front of the ranger, no less.

"I'm a selfish woman," she said, "I always have been. I wanted a child, I got one. I wanted a husband, got that too. Wanted a lover… it never occurred to me the damage I was doing."

"I find that hard to believe," Bishop said, "Taking advantage of a nineteen-year-old boy with your sister while your husband and hers were drunk downstairs?"

"Advantage!" Talia scoffed, "Please. You were born jaded and you know it."

Bishop shrugged.

"I suppose what I'm saying," she said, setting down plates of eggs in front of both of them, "Is that I'm glad he knew some happiness before he died."

"Here's his wages," Adahni said through a mouthful, dropping a purse on the kitchen table, "And something for the child. His sword and shield are in our saddlebags, thought you might want to have them, for sentimental purposes and all."

"My son is not growing up to be a soldier," Talia said, "Keep his tools of war."

"I hope that that opportunity is afforded him," Adahni said, "We live in troubled times."

"All times are troubled," Talia replied, "My son will never hold a sword in his hand, so long as I live."

"Very well," Adahni said.

"I've seen what becomes of men when they hold swords," Talia said bitterly, "The stubborn evil of them cost me my home, my livelihood. Jem fell under the spell before he married me. He could never be happy with a peacetime trade so long as people like you rode through the valleys with your blades and bows."

"Our blades and bows saved this very settlement," Adahni said, "You live here thanks to the blood of others."

"I have wanted nothing more than to live in peace," Talia said, "It was Jem's choice to settle here, not mine."

"I hope that you will be able to," Adahni said, "With your..."

"Lon is only a boy. I don't doubt that in a few years the lust will seize him and he, too, will go forth with a sword in his hand to get himself killed, just like Jem," Talia said, "Me, I will continue to look for life's simple pleasures, for myself and my son."

Adahni finished her breakfast and pushed her plate away, "I wish you the best of luck with that."

"It's a long ride back to Crossroad," Bishop said, "We'll stay the day here, leave at sunset. It's too hot to travel safely by day, not in our armor."

Adahni nodded. Her eyes were growing bleary, and she longed for some cool darkness and a place to lay her head.

"Thank you for the meal," she said to Talia, "And I am quite sorry for your loss."

"I'm sorry for yours," Talia replied, "Thank you for having the courtesy to inform me in person."

"When your son asks for his father…"

"I will tell him his father was a good and honorable man."

Adahni nodded, said her goodbyes, and they left the farmhouse.

In a room at the one inn in town, with the shades drawn, Adahni stripped down and washed herself as best she could in a tub of lukewarm water. There was one room available for the day – the inn only had four after all – and the other travelers knew well enough not to be moving during the heat of the day. Feeling somewhat clean, she put on a new set of underclothes, went to the room, and flopped down on top of the comforter. She was joined after a few minutes by a similarly scrubbed Bishop.

"So that was that," he said, "That was what we rode all this way for."

"She deserved as much," she replied.

"I suppose. It's funny…"

"What is?"

"I'm running out of people to hate. Oh, to be sure, the paladin irritates the hells out of me, but with Jem dead, and Dayven, and Evendyn Claven…. All gone."

"You didn't hate Jem."

"I hated what he stood for," Bishop said, "Close enough."

"Well maybe you'll be a bit more pleasant."

"Perhaps," he said, "I wouldn't put any coin on it."

They were silent a long moment.

"Why did you cut your hair?" he asked.

"It was too heavy," she replied.

He propped himself up on one elbow and ran his hand through it, fingering the still-rough ends, "I like it. Makes you look tough."

"I am tough."

"Your bark is bigger than your bite," he said. He leaned down and kissed her, not violently like he had in the Sunken Flagon, nor at the Cuckoo's Nest. This kiss was gentle, exploratory, and sent a shiver down her spine. She leaned into it despite herself, her mind, instead of racing with all the ways that this was wrong, going refreshingly blank.

"We can't be doing this," she said, after he retreated and her thoughts had returned.

"You said we," he said, "Not me. That means we can be doing this, we ought to be doing this, and you really ought to admit that to yourself."

"What?" she said, drawing back.

"You didn't say 'you can't be doing this.' You said 'we can't be doing this.' That means you want to. Why should you deny yourself?"

"Respect for the dead."

"When have you ever been respectful."

Adahni was silent. She was tired, and sore from riding all that way. The kiss had felt sweet to her, and almost necessary. She put her hand against his cheek and kissed his mouth in the same way he'd done to her. In the darkness of the summer day, she felt something that had been weighing on her those long years lift and fall away, and she felt free and light. She let herself be kissed and held tightly against him, let him pull away her undershirt and put his mouth on her breasts. They made love frantically, the ropes holding the mattress up squeaking, Adahni's fierce cries of encouragement threatening to carry into the room next door. In five minutes, she was moaning her pleasure into the crook of his neck, and in ten, he was doing the same, his head buried between her ample breasts, repeating her name in long, shuddering gasps. Spent, she fell asleep on the damp sheets, covered in sweat, and did not awake until the sun was sinking over the hills to the west.

They didn't speak a word to each other when they rose, but put on their clothes on opposite sides of the bed. They packed their things in silence. Adahni went to the door first, but he put his hand on her wrist, as he had done once a long time before. He pulled her to him, tipped her head up, and kissed her again.

As they rode along, Adahni started singing to herself, just loud enough that he could hear it if he wanted to.

_As I came in through Luskan town_

_I heard a fair maid mourning_

_She was making sore complaint_

___For her true love ne'er returning_

_There's many a horse has slipped and fell_

_And risen again quite rarely_

_There's many a lass has lost her lad_

_And gotten another right early_

_There's just as good fish in the sea_

_As ever yet was taken_

_I'll cast my net and try again_

_For I'm only once forsaken_

_So I'll go back by Luskan town_

_Where I was bred and born in_

_And there I'll get another young lad_

_To wed me in the morning_

_She was riding slightly behind him, but she thought as she looked up at the side of his face that she saw him smile._


	67. Bosom Friends

They didn't speak much that whole night, and certainly nothing about what had occurred behind closed doors at a certain inn in Old Owl Well. They didn't need to, she thought. He'd gotten what he wanted, what he'd been after, for all she knew, since he was a boy. He would stop following her around, stop sticking his nose into whatever business she had. He would go back to being her humble tracker, and nothing more.

He confirmed this suspicion by taking off without a word as soon as they had ridden in the gates. Addie, who had become a bit accustomed to having others take care of her in her short tenure as captain of Crossroad, tossed the reins of her horse to a stable lad, and stood in the courtyard a moment, stretching her legs and back. As she leaned over, working the kink out of a stubborn muscle in her side, she froze.

"Who's that over there, talking to the sergeant?" she asked a pageboy who had rushed up to her, presumably to take her things and bring them to her chambers.

"Newly arrived recruit, lad from your hometown," the pageboy said, "Arrived here two nights back."

She thrust her pack into the page's hand and shooed him away. She walked fast, practically ran, across the courtyard to where a ghost stood in the shadow of on of the guard towers.

"Bevil?" she all but squeaked.

"Addie," he said, not at all surprised to be seeing her. He was paler, thinner than he'd been the last time she'd seen him, but it was him all right. All six and a half feet of him standing, warm and living, in front of her.

"What... how..." she said, but gave up pretenses and threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her back, gingerly.

"Things have happened," Bevil said, his voice laden with sorrow, "Awful... things."

"I know," she said, her eyes filling with tears for the first time in a long time, "I'm sorry, for everything..."

"It seems..." he said, "It seems we'd just buried Lorne, just getting back to normal. I hope you don't mind me coming here."

"Mind? I thought you dead these last two months, Starling... tell me, did any others survive?"

"A couple of the farmers," Bevil said, "And your father. He said that he would journey here within the month, that he had business with his brother in Neverwinter, but I have yet to see him."

"Daeghun lives?" Addie said quietly, her heart quietly skipping a beat, "Please, Bevil, by all means, stay. Work if you'd like, you must be quite a soldier by now, and I could use an imposing figure to whip some of them into shape."

He smiled, a grim smile, but a smile nonetheless, and nodded. "You've really come up in the world."

She lowered her eyes and felt the heat rising to her cheeks, "Circumstances..." she began.

"No, no. Perhaps fate threw this together for you, but it's you that determined what you'd make of it," the hardened veteran who had so recently been a clear-eyed boy said, "I always thought one of us was destined for great things."

"You have distinguished yourself in your own way," Addie said.

"I have," Bevil said mildly, "I never wanted to leave home, though, Addie. I suppose I'll have to make my own way."

"I'm putting the recruits from the towns to the south under your command," she said, "Katriona can't handle them, she's stiff as a board. You understand what it's like to fight, not for principle, but for life and limb. You'll do well for them."

"Thank you, my lady," he said.

"Please, Bevil, you knew me when the best way to spend a summer day was making mudpies. I am Addie. And I have not forgotten all the kindnesses you've done me. Nor will I."

He hugged her in earnest then, lifting her up in his burly arms and shaking her softly from side to side like she weighed nothing at all.

She left Bevil outside his new room in one of the houses that had been transformed into makeshift barracks and went back up to the keep. Kana greeted her with items of business that had accrued in her absence, and she dealt with them as she had dealt with everything else... by makingi t up as she went along. A new group of soldiers had arrived from some of the Mere villages - evidently word of her deeds had made it to the area that used to house Westharbor - and she set about taking down their names and assigning them to squads.

She was sitting at her desk, her back to open doorway of her chamber - she had kept ithe heavy oak door closed for so long that she felt a bit claustrophobic sometimes, and left it open - poring over maps by candlelight, when she heard a thump. She looked up, startled, to see that Neeshka was perched on her windowsill, her tail twitching mischeivously, her horns glinting in the firelight.

"Hey Neesh," she said, scooting her chair back from the desk, "What can I do for you?"

The tiefling leapt to the floor with a bit of a scowl, "I was hoping I'd scare you."

Addie let out a halfhearted shriek, putting her hand over her heart and feigning a swoon.

"Look what I've got," Neeshka said, holding out one spotted hand. Her fingernails were cleaner than usual, and on the third finger of her hand was a ring with an enormous ruby.

"Where'd you steal that from?" Addie asked.

"I _didn't _steal it," Neeshka replied, the corners of her mouth jerking upward, "Cormick gave it to me."

"Ohhh boy," Addie said, rolling her eyes, "Not you too..."

"_Yes _me too!" Neeshka cackled, her tail swishing back and forth gaily, "I suppose we all react to tragedy in different ways. You went and shut yourself in your room for a month, and Cormick decided it was time to get hitched..."

"I'm happy for you," Addie said.

"Although I'm wondering if it has anything to do him not having a family to disapprove anymore," the little thief said with a shrug.

"Does that matter to you?"

"Not really. I'll finally get what I've always wanted!"

"A husband?" Addie said, furrowing her brow.

"No, stupid," Neeshka crowed, "A last name!"

"You don't have a last name?" Adahni said.

"We've been travelling together how long, and you haven't noticed? Khelgar Ironfist, Shandra Jerro, Casavir Andarion, Bishop... whatever his last name is, you never wondered?"

"Bishop is his last name."

"What's his first name?" Neeshka asked.

"Daisy Belle," Addie replied, "But no, I guess it never occurred to me."

"The priests don't bother giving their charges last names. They figure most of us wind up as monks or nuns anyway, so what's the point? But I didn't, and nobody ever adopted me, and so I've just been Neeshka all my life."

"Why didn't you just make one up? You know you can do that," Adahni said.

"But it's missing the point," Neeshka said, "You can't give yourself a name. Names are things you get given, you get a name when someone claims you."

"Like when Khelgar calls you goatgirl?"

"Even that," she said. Her feet did a little dance on the flagstones, "Someone's claiming me, for the first time in my life. I get to belong to someone."

Adahni felt the tears spring into her eyes for the second time that day. She'd never thought of it like that. She'd insisted on going by Farishta for a couple of years now. Farishta seemed more authentic to her for it had been the name of the man who had sired her, but never claimed her. Never even laid eyes on her for all she'd known. Her original name, the one she'd grown up under, was Farlong. Daeghun had not been a close father, but he'd been a father to her. He'd taken her into his home, he had given her his name, had made her his daughter.

"Next week," Neeshka said, "We're going to do it at the chapel. It's been let out to a monk of some sort, but Cormick says he'll bring out of his friends in from Neverwinter, a sea captain, to officiate. It won't be like Casavir's wedding, with all the somber ceremony."

"I'm sure it will be much, much better," Addie said, "Will I have to start calling your Mrs. Lainsford?"

"Damn right you will," Neeshka giggled, "Well, I'm off, lots of planning to do. Gods! I never thought I'd be doing this in a thousand years!" The tiefling turned a little cartwheel of delight, and leapt back out the window from when she had come.

Addie shook her head, laughing ruefully. She was genuinely happy for the couple, and took some credit for them having met. She'd been a bit hands off about the whole thing. Ever since the Casavir fiasco and finding what she'd thought was Helvynn's corpse, she didn't feel like she ought to be too heavily involved in the personal lives of her companions. She was inextricably tangled up in the paladin's relationship with his wife, and she didn't much like it that way, and was hoping Khelgar and Helvynn would leave her out of their inevitable quarrels. Her own were complicated enough. This led her to thinking about what had transpired with the ranger, and how strangely peaceful she'd felt since then. She didn't feel any guilt, didn't feel that she'd taken advantage of a young boy, as she almost surely would have before. Ill-tempered or not, he'd known her longer than any of her companions. He knew the darkness inside of her, though perhaps he liked to exaggerate it to prove his own point. What was it he'd said to her? _I'm running out of people to hate. _

As if on cue, the one remaining object of his ire darkened her doorstep. _Why doesn't he just use the damn window like everyone of my other insane companions seem to? _she wondered as the shadow feel across the threshold. She knew before looking up that it was the paladin, she would recognize his hulking shadow anywhere. She turned around.

"My lady," he said, lowering his eyes.

"How are you, Cas?" she asked.

"Well," he replied, though she could tell he was lying.

"Have a seat," she said, gesturing to a chair in the corner. He sat down gingerly, as thought afraid to break something, "How can I help you?"

"Where have you been?" he asked, his tone accusatory, "I heard you left the keep without notice, in the company of that ranger." He spat the last word out, as though it tasted bad. He still wouldn't speak his name.

"It's complicated," she sighed, "I went to tell Jem's widow that he had fallen, and to give her his pay for his son."

"That is honorable, considering your... arrangement."

"Cas," she said, "When Jem arrived, you gave me your blessing. Don't tell me you're going to go all proper on me now."

"It doesn't seem that my approval has much sway over what path you choose."

The words stung like a slap in the face. "Out with it, then," she said, "What is it that's bothering you? What have I done to earn your scorn?"

"I know that the ranger is a valuable asset to the mission, and that his work is good," Cas said, "But that doesn't mean you ought to go stealing off, alone with him in the middle of the night! How do you think that looks?"

"Nobody seems to care except for you, Cas," she said.

"Why was he even accompanying you? He has no rank in this keep."

"He had his reasons," Adahni said, "None of which are frankly any of your business. I'm sorry if you disapprove, but... you have to understand. There are complications that I cannot explain to you without betraying some confidences. I have given my word, and I intend to keep it."

"I apologize, my lady," Cas said, his eyes on the floor again, "I did not intend to intrude onto your personal business. I just..."

"You just what?" she said.

"You have known such sadness," he said, raising his eyes again, and she saw genuine kindness and concern in their pale blue depths, "I know all too well what it is to lose the one you love. I would not have you compromise yourself in the moment of weakness. I only seek to spare you from more heartache."

_You have been the cause of much of it, _she thought, and in a rush, all the feelings she'd had for Cas, all the hurt and shame of her marriage to Dayven, and all the emptiness she felt in Jem's absence, came rushing back like a summer thunderstorm. Her voice caught in her throat, and she could not respond.

"It's all right, my lady."

She heard his voice as though she were at the bottom of a well, and he at the top calling down to her. She quickly wiped at her eyes, ashamed to show weakness in front of her companion, but it was of no use. In an instant, he had risen and gathered her against him, his arms broad and strong. She wept silently into his chest, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. She didn't know how long it took until she had spent her last tear, but he stood through all of it, supporting her.

"It's all right, my lady," he said again, "I won't tell anyone."

She giggled a little at that, looking up at him, her vision blurry. "Thank you," she sighed. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, like he had done many times before. This time, though, he let his mouth linger there for longer. All in a moment, he'd leaned down again and kissed her, this time on the mouth. She was surprised, but did not pull away. His kiss was simple and soft, both their lips stayed shut, but there was no mistaking it for what it was, no pretending it was an accident. He was cleaner shaven than the ranger, and his face against hers felt smooth in comparison.

"Cas..." They heard the voice from the doorway. Hardly anyone was awake at that time of night, so Adahni always left her door open for the air.

They sprang apart, and to Adahni's horror, Vania stood in the door, her face a mask of shock.


	68. My Second Time

"No-good, lying, son of a bitch!"

"Vania, my love, it was... please don't make a scene."

"I will make a scene if I damn well please!" Vania shrieked. Adahni ducked as a shoe, presumably one she had been wearing, flew past and hit the wall behind her. "And as for you!" Adahni Farishta, perhaps the most feared woman in Neverwinter and its outlying territories, cowered in fear as the corseted and bejeweled noblewoman approached her.

"It was his idea," she said, her voice small and scared, "I didn't even... I'd been crying and he was just trying to comfort me."

"I know very well you have a taste for other peoples' husbands," Vania sniffed, looking at her as though she were a cockroach whose life had just ended underneath the noblewoman's heel, "But I will thank you to stay away from mine." Her words hurt like a blow to the mouth, but her tone instantly killed whatever pity she had felt for the woman, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise in anger.

She was reminded of one particularly bad customer, from back when she was only a bard. He was the pudgy son of two Luskan nobles, who liked to take his ale at the Cuckoo's Nest. Once, he'd seen her on the street before one of her shifts, and demanded that she carry his packages for him. As though she worked for him, as though the whole world existed simply to bend to his every whim. She had felt sorry for Vania, the beautiful butterfly imprisoned in a glass jar, when she'd seen her at the collector's mansion. It seemed, though, that none of the romantic flights of fancy that had led her to leave her husband for the paladin could cut through the fact that, at her heart, she was a rich girl from a rich family, and was not used to taking orders from anyone beneath her. I am noble too, now, Addie thought to herself. She gathered herself, her insides still swimming from crying, and then from the adrenaline of being caught doing something she shouldn't.

She steeled herself, and looked up at Vania, who was still screaming at her, calling her a pathetic whore and all sorts of other unsavory names.

"Perhaps you've forgotten who is lady of this manor," Adahni said, her voice still soft. Vania was silent as though she had been slapped across the face, her mouth opening and closing without a sound, rather like a goldfish."I apologize for whatever role I might have had in this embarrassing incident, but that is all that you are going to get from me. Casavir is in my employ, and under my orders."

She turned her gaze to the paladin, but continued addressing his wife, "His conduct was impermissible not only as a married man, but as a retainer. I think it for the best that you return to your quarters - quarters where you stay because I allow you to stay there - and forget that any of this occurred. I will not reprimand my soldier in front of his wife."

Thoroughly put in her place, Vania picked up her shoe, putting it on with as much dignity as she could muster, and stalked out of the room.

"I don't need to tell you how inappropriate that was," Adahni said when Vania's back had disappeared around the corner, "Whatever problems you may be having in your marriage, that is not a good way to solve them."

"My lady, I have no idea what came over me," Casavir said.

"See that it doesn't come over you again," she said, not looking him in the eye, afraid of what he might see in hers.

"I don't understand myself sometimes," he said, speaking as much to himself as to Addie, "Vania is everything I have ever wanted for almost ten years. And I have her. Why would I have done something to jeopardize that?"

"You're human," Addie replied shortly, "We have urges. Sometimes we cannot control them."

"But surely you must understand... she is the one I love, she is the woman I want, and you are nothing like her!" he was getting worked up.

"Don't for a moment try to blame this on me," Adahni said, "You kissed me."

"You tempted me!" Casavir insisted.

"I did nothing of the sort," Adahni said, her voice remaining steady, but her heart pounding, "I was being comforted by a dear friend of mine. Where is that dear friend now?"

"Friend!" he snapped, "You should have stopped me! I see now how it is... you can't help yourself. Any man you come across. How many of the soldiers in this very camp have you seduced?"

"Leave," she commanded, "Get out of my chamber this instant."

He stopped midbreath. He looked around the room, down at his hands, and then back up at her. "My lady... I don't know what... I would never presume to talk to you that way... I'm sorry."

"Casavir Andarion," she said, her voice cold as the flagstones, "I release you from my service."

"Addie, please, I spoke in haste and anger, it was an outburst, nothing more!"

"Don't presume to address me by my first name," she said.

"Please, you can't mean this... you're just angry."

"She said leave," a familiar voice said. Bishop, who had been missing most of the day, had appeared some time in the last few minutes, on her windowsill, where Neeshka had sat.

"What are you doing here?" Casavir asked, "This is none of your business!"

"The way I see it," the ranger said, jumping down from the sill and striding over to the paladin. He was a few inches shorter than Casavir, but could look him in the eye without straining, "One of us still works here. And it's not you."

"My lady..." the knight started.

"He's right, Cas," Adahni said, "Please leave before I have to have you escorted from the grounds." She turned her back to them so nobody saw the last lonely tear in her body meandering down her cheek. When she turned around, the paladin was gone.

"This is really turning out to be a good year for me," the ranger said, shutting the door and bolting it, "One Claven dead, one in prison, Dayven Elhandrien buried in the ground, and now I won't even have to deal with that sanctimonious prick anymore."

"You're not making this easier," she remarked.

"Oh, come on, love, you know as well as I that you'd be disappointed if I weren't my old sardonic self. You like it. Admit it."

"How much of that did you see?"

"I saw a sanctimonious prick clumsily kiss a lady altogether too good for him," the ranger replied, "I didn't see the lady kiss him back."

"She didn't."

"Not that I'd care if she did, of course," he said, kicking off his boots and sitting down at the edge of her bed, "I'd be a little disappointed in her, I suppose, but I'm sure she'd have had her reasons."

"Please, make yourself at home," she said sarcastically as he pulled his knees to his chest and stretched out his back, "What are you doing here? And why the hell is it so easy to get in through my window? I'm three stories off the ground!"

"Scaffolding," Bishop replied, "The stonemasons left it up."

"Ahh," she said, making a mental note to have a word with the architect about that.

"I am here because I want to spend the night with you again. It's night time, and this is your chamber, so this seemed the obvious place to be. And..."

"And what?"

"I brought whiskey." He produced a bottle out of somewhere under his tunic and handed it to her. She took a whiff. It smelled like the good stuff.

"Oh, thank gods... anything to make this day bearable," she said. She took a swig, and handed it back to him. He took a long swallow, handed it back to her, and so they went, back and forth, wordlessly, until the pale liquid was gone and a buzz had started around both of their ears.

"Are you really letting Casavir go?" he asked, lying down on the bed and tugging her down beside him.

"You heard what he called me," she said, rolling her eyes, "Like I'm to blame for his repression!"

Bishop snickered, "Well you saw that wife of his. Probably will only let him do her with him on top, candles out, and only lift her nightgown to her navel, once a week just after supper."

Adahni laughed out loud, and the laughter felt like a kind of relief, "He's a good soldier," she said, "But... he's not the man I thought he was. He made that abundantly clear."

"Well seeing as you thought he was some kind of god walking the ground, that's not much of a surprise," Bishop said.

"Well, you're an insufferable ass," she said, "But at least you never pretended to be anything else."

"I'm not afraid of myself," he said, "Never have been. Neither are you."

"Of course I'm not afraid of you," she said.

"No," he said, "You're not afraid of yourself. That's what I like about you. Well... that and how you look half naked moaning down at me..." She laughed, and blew out the candle still burning on her desk. The moon streamed in the window, making a silvery pool on the flagstones.

"So, lights out, and I only lift my gown to my navel," she said, "Deal?"

He chuckled lowly and shoved one hand under her skirt, hiking it up to her knee. He leaned in to kiss her, but stopped, a troubled look on his face, as though something had just occurred to him.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I've never done this before," he said, sounding genuinely surprised.

"What, put your hand up a lass's skirt? I find that hard to believe."

"No," he said, "I've done that, clearly... I just... I've never done it twice with the same woman."

"First time for everything," she said.

"Hate to spoil a perfect record," he said.

"Would you really?"

"I suppose you're right," he sighed in mock regret, "All right, Farishta, on your back."

An hour or two later, spent and weary, they laid side by side atop the quilt. "Feel better?" he asked.

"I'm going to tell Casavir he can stay," she said after a moment's silence, "But he's got to deal with this situation. He can't keep blaming his problems on me."

"Well, I'm disappointed, but I can't say I'm surprised," the ranger said, "I'll be the first to admit, I've been glad to have him along on some of these harebrained journeys you seem so fond of dragging us on."

"You're joking," Addie said, rolling over so she could look him in the face. He reached out and brushed a strand of her hair from her shoulder, and then moved his hand down to her breast, feeling its weight in his palm.

"Without him, I know it'd be me taking some of those blows," he said, "Or you."

"Good point," she said.

"I mean if I said I didn't sort of like seeing him get hurt, I'd be a liar, and you know that I'm nothing if not honest," he said. She snickered, but behind it was a pang of loss. Casavir had been lost to her a long time, but somehow she couldn't bear the idea of never seeing him again. "Not to mention the satisfaction of knowing I've got what he so desperately wants," Bishop continued.

"And what's that?"

He glanced down at her naked body, the moonlight highlighting the many scars, and the biggest one where the shard of the githyanki sword lay embedded in her skin.

"I didn't say he knows he wants you," he said, "The man was born in a state of denial and seems to bushwhack deeper and into the interior of that unfortunate state every day."

"Is that what this is about?" she asked, "Is this just the latest in your never-ending one-sided competition with him? And you won because you got to bed me?"

A flicker of emotion passed over his face. Fear? Pain? Guilt? "My reasons are my own, as are yours, and I wouldn't presume to ask you yours, so I'd be much obliged if you'd stay out of mine," he said.

"I don't care," she said, "Whether you want to spite Cas or just because you're nineteen and would bed anything. I was just curious."

"It's not a small thing," he said, his hand gripping her upper arm so hard she was sure he'd raise bruises, "It's not a small thing at all, for a lad to finally have the first woman he ever desired."

"Ahh, so that explains that..." she sighed. She put a hand to his face, and felt his grip on her relax, "Well, I suppose you spend eight years wondering what's underneath a girl's gown, and you finally find out..."

"It makes a man quite reluctant to let go, I've found," he said, wrapping an arm tight about her shoulders.

"Well, nobody's asking you to," she replied, "But you're going to have to loosen your grip a bit before you strangle me in my sleep."

***

He was gone when she woke up, a fact she was rather glad about. The last thing she wanted was people talking. They'd find out eventually, but she felt it was probably best to clear the air with Casavir and Vania before dropping that load of bricks. She went down the hill to the small house that she had set the couple up in the top flat. The bottom housed a family, the father and mother of which worked in Sal's kitchen over at the Phoenix Tail Inn, and the sons were stableboys. She went up the back stairs, not wanting to disturb them, and knocked on the door. Nobody answered, so she knocked again.

This is my manor,she thought, and opened the door, which had been left unlatched. The flat was only a few small rooms - a kitchen, bedroom, and smaller bedroom which Casavir had turned into a makeshift prayer room. She walked in, but the shutters were shut and it was too dark to see anything. She threw the kitchen shutter open, and looked around. To her dismay, the entire place was empty, except for large items of furniture. They were gone. It was as if they'd never been there at all.


	69. The Paths of Least Resistance

"It sure looks buried deep in the mountains." Shandra commented. Addie, Shandra, Khelgar, Bishop, and Zhjaeve were standing around the table in the war room, poring over the map that Aldanon had put together in their absence. He'd babbled a bit about demons and infernal magic, but Adahni had learned to tune him out over the months that she'd known him. It would do no good to hear just what nasty creatures she'd have to battle - there was no way around it. She did not remark on the paladin's absence. Neeshka was off preparing for her nuptials, Grobnar was tinkering with whatever gnomish bit of crap he was assembling in the basement, and Elanee was, as usual, nowhere to be found.

"Since when has that stopped us?" Adahni asked, a small smile playing about her mouth. She had not told her companions about the paladin's decision to leave, or her part in it. She figured they would catch on soon enough that he was no longer travelling with them. Only Khelgar raised an eyebrow that his usual place at the table had been taken by the ranger, "It will be an obnoxious journey, for sure and certain, but we should be back within the week."

"Let's get this over with," Shandra sighed, "I've been saving this pint of blood just for this occasion." She shifted her scythe from hand to hand, and shook a strand of straw-colored hair out of her eyes.

"All right," Adahni said, "We'll meet out front in an hour. I've hired some horses, they'll get us over the moorlands quickly enough, but we'll probably have to leave them once we get up into the mountains." Shandra, the gith, and the ranger, moved out, but Khelgar lingered by the doorway.

"Lass," he said gruffly.

"Yes, Master Ironfist?" she replied without raising her eyes. She folded up the map and tucked it into a case hanging from her belt.

"Where's the paladin? Usually he's by your side like a faithful hound."

"Casavir is no longer in my service," she replied.

"Why would that be?" the dwarf asked, "Can't say he was my favorite, a little too, you know, pike up the arse, for my taste, but I had thought that..."

"You had thought what?" she demanded, looking up at him sharply.

"Now, lass, I know there's something you're not telling me," the dwarf said.

"If I'm not telling you, Ironfist, then you really ought to figure that there's a reason for it. Now go say farewell to your sweetheart, we'll be gone for some time."

"Suit yourself," Khelgar said, his armor squawking as he shrugged, "I've always an ear to lend if you should need it."

"I appreciate that, Khelgar, but we really need to be in a hurry. We can't miss Neeshka's wedding, and the sooner we leave, the sooner we can come back to free ale. How does that sound?"

"Splendid," the dwarf said, perking up a bit.

They set out in the next hour. The heat wave had broken, and the air was beginning to smell like autumn. As the moved north, the trees began showing signs of the coming fall, the green leaves tinged around the edges with gold and orange. They road over hill and dale, stopping at inns - Adahni, with her new title and stipend, felt it was more proper and altogether more comfortable than crowding the lot of them into a tent. She and the ranger kept their distance during the day, but that turned out to be a mistake. Adahni was changing into her underclothes for the night, on the second night of travel, when Shandra burst into her room.

"What's going on with you and Bishop? Is something wrong?" she demanded.

Adahni looked, dumbfounded, at the farmer standing there in a torn and stained nightgown, her hair mussed from the road. "What makes you say that?" she asked.

"Usually he won't leave you alone," Shandra said, looking furtively to see if anyone else was there or listening, "He's got a smart remark for everything out of your mouth. What happened? And where's Casavir, wouldn't he usually be here?"  
"Well, you're ten times more observant than the others," Adahni sighed, "Sit down." Slowly and painfully, she recounted the story, how she had lost her composure and Casavir had comforted her.

"No!" Shandra gasped, her mouth open, as she told how the knight had kissed her on the mouth just as his wife had arrived to check on him, "He wouldn't!"

"I didn't think so either! Isn't that strange of him?" Adahni asked, "And then... he got angry with me, as though it were my fault. He all but accused me of sleeping with every soldier in the keep. So..."

"So he left," Shandra said, "I would too if I'd insulted my superior so. What a nightmare!"

"Tell me about it," Adahni sighed.

"I mean, everyone knows you were in love with him," Shandra said, rolling her eyes, "Just like everyone know's Bishop's sweet on you, as sweet as that bitter little prick could be. I always knew it would cause a problem eventually, but then when he got married, and you shacked up with that boy from Barnslow, we all figured that was the end of that. I had to pay Neeshka two weeks' salary from the watch!"

"Wait, what?"

"We had a pool going," Shandra said, "I bet double or nothing that his marriage would have fallen apart two weeks into being at Crossroad Keep and you would have swooped in with your sweet words to cheer to poor man up. Neeshka had her money on you finding something new and interesting to waste your time."

"Was it that obvious?"

"What, you thought you were coy about it?" Shandra asked, laughing out loud, "All those stares, drawn-out sighs, how you'd look directly at him every time you sang a love song?"

"Gods, did I really?" Adahni asked, "How embarrassing. Are you saying you don't believe me, that that's what happened?"

"Oh, I believe you," Shandra said, "You're not one to get carried away by your emotions, except for anger, which I think figured into this situation in spades. So, what does that have to do with Bishop avoiding you?"

"He has some bad blood with Luskan," Adahni said, half lying, 'As you might have heard... he only talks about it every other day or so. I... I gave the order to have Torio Claven transported to the keep, as an informant, rather than ordering her execution. I don't think he's quite forgiven me for that." She hadn't told the ranger about Claven, not knowing what tornado of emotions that would have stirred up.

"You did what?" Shandra exclaimed, "Well you don't need any bad blood with Luskan to know that that was a terrible idea. She tried to have you assassinated! Twice! Not to mention that trial by combat bullshit she pulled after you'd been found innocent!"

Three times, thought Adahni, "She might know things," she said, "And if she chooses not to talk, I believe I would enjoy very, very much... convincing her to talk, if you get my drift."

"Well, I'll miss Casavir, if only because when he was around, you'd never talk about torture with such glee," Shandra sighed, "Do you think there's any chance of him coming back?"

"I don't even know where he went," Adahni replied, "I wouldn't know where to find him. He'll be back if he feels like it, and if he doesn't, I suppose he'll have to make his own way."

"I suppose," Shandra said, but Adahni could tell that she suspected that there was more to the situation than the bard was letting on, "I hope he does. He was good to have around."

"Come on, Jerro," Adahni said, "No sense in crying over spilled milk. Go, get some sleep. We'll be upon the Haven sometime tomorrow afternoon."

Autumn was in full strength as they arrived in the mountains wherein, if Aldanon's map was the be believed, Ammon Jerro's haven lay. The long grass had turned yellow and lay lankly on the rocky ground, and the winds whipping across the hills held the threat of real chill in them. The valley looked barren, the trees dead, but, oddly enough, there were braziers set into the ground, surrounded by grotesque stone statues, facing threateningly outward.

"This is where my grandfather's Haven is?" Shandra said, looking around in confusion, "Are you sure Aldanon got it right?"

"Took us bloody long enough to get here," Khelgar grumbled, "My arse feels like someone shoved a nest of hornets down my britches. Dwarves were not meant to sit in saddles."

"Know that this area will be well guarded," Zhjaeve said, "I know not what foul beasts Jerro has left here to defend his haven."

"Shadows, gargoyles, and probably a complicated lock system," Bishop grumbled, nocking an arrow to his bow and firing off at what Adahni thought was a stone statue of a gargoyle. To her horror, it screamed and clutched at the arrow, as though it were alive. She realized quickly that they were alive, animated at least, and charging straight at them.

Khelgar, as was his wont, hurled himself at them as the ranger let off arrow after arrow. Shandra followed afterwards, slicing at them with her scythe like she would at a field full of wheat at harvest time. Adahni herself engaged only one, finding that their stony skin did not yield easily even to her freshly sharpened rapier, and that they moved too quickly for her to dance out of the way as she usually did. She was grateful when Khelgar brought down the haft of his axe on the head of her oponent, and it crumpled to the ground with a half-hearted wheeze.

They fought their way through more stone gargoyles and a pack of demon ghost-dogs that Adahni found a little unnerving. They whined like pups every time they were hit, but did not stop until they were in piles on the ground, and the wind blew them away like so much dust. They fought there way through the valley until they came to a great and imposing door set directly into the mountain. Guarding it was the older brother of the golem that had assaulted them in the warehouse in Neverwinter. It did not seem to be threatening, so Adahni approached it. To her astonishment, with a groan of rusty joints, it spoke in a deep voice that Adahni imagined was a recording of its master.

"This way is closed to all but those of the line of Jerro," it intoned.

"I'm a Jerro," Shandra said.

"Know that sharing the Jerro blood is only the first step. You, and any allies, must also walk the three Paths, Determination, Righteousness, and Sight."

"Gods," Khelgar muttered, "They're worse than the monks."

"Illuminate the braziers, get a vial of burning water - whatever the hells that is - and kill some shaman," Adahni repeated after the golem had spoken at length about the three tasks.

"There are sometimes geysers in the mountains," the Ranger said, "Sometimes they spout water, sometimes lava, and sometimes acid. I remember I was smuggling a convict into Luskan territory where he would be safe, and we came through these mountains. I told the fool not to tread there, that we had to take the longway around. Jackass didn't listen, insisted on running headlong into it. Up came the geyser. When the spout was through, he was nothing but bones."

"Ugh," Shandra grimaced, "So how are we supposed to collect this, if it'll make a man into bones in give minutes flat?"

"Don't look at me," the Ranger said, "I wouldn't think of damaging this pretty face."

"Give me the vial," Adahni said.

"Addie... what are you thinking of doing?" Shandra asked, but handed her the flask anyway.

"Well, first hing is, putting out the prairie fire that seems to be heading our way a little faster than I'd like," Adahni said.

"That's no fire," the ranger said, "That's an elemental, a spirit drawn forth by a powerful sorcerer. Gee, I wonder who could have summoned that?"

"Or how we kill it?"

"We kill it," Khelgar said, "Like we kill everything else. We hit it until it falls down and dies."

This turned out to be quite effective. Using the glowing remains of the fire elementals, they lit the braziers, now devoid of gargoyles. As they reached the furthest one, in the southermost rim of the valley, the ranger stopped and sniffed the air. Shandra followed suit.

"Smells like eggs," Shandra said, wrinkling her nose, "After they've gone off."

"Smells like Khelgar after a night of drinking," Adahni added.

"Smells like there's an acid geyser not so far from here," the ranger said, "Although you're right, it is distinctly reminiscent of dwarf flatulence."

"Wait here," Adahni said, "I'm going to try this one alone."

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" Shandra asked, "I mean... man to bones in..."

"Don't be ridiculous," the ranger said, "You'll get yourself killed. Let me do it."

"Trust me," Adahni said, "I know what I'm doing."

The ranger gave her a reproachful look as she turned, following her nose to the source of the smell. Small spouts of clear liquid - liquid that looked like water but Adahni knew was something nasty and caustic - came from seemingly random parts on the ground. She adjusted her gloves, and made sure her boots were on securely. She made sure her hair was tied up properly - since she'd cut it it hadn't been too much of a burden - and unfastened her cloak and left it on the ground.

She took a running leap , her eyes on the ground, tumbling over and over. She still managed to get a couple of nasty chemical burns on her hands and elbows, but, as she looked over the field of tiny geysers, it could have been much, much worse. There was a pool at the end, from which she filled the vial, and started back the way she came.

"There, see?" she said, handing the vial to Shandra, "No worse for wear. It's more dangerous serving drunks."

"My guess is the last nonsensical task is up there," the ranger said, pointing. On a cliff, overlooking the valley, was a thickly built and bearded man dressed in skins. After some poking around, they managed to haul their way up the more forgiving hillside, and approach him.

"I know why you have come, strangers. I stand before you unarmed, helpless. What will you do?"

"The golem said you were dangerous," Adahni said.

"To my people," the shaman sighed, "I will be a savior, to everyone else, I will be doom and despair. I ask again - what will you do?"

"You speak as though you are destined to do these things, and have no choice in the matter," Adahni replied, "There is no chance you will change your path?"

"Is there any chance any will change their path? Are we not all but pawns on the chessboard?" the shaman asked.

"Only those who choose to be," Adahni said, "I'm not going to kill you."

"And yet you know that I may ultimately be responsible for many deaths. This is truth."

"You may be responsible for any number of things. Fact is, we don't know that."

"Very well," said the shaman, "Face the consequences of your inaction."

"On second thought," Adahni said, "You're pissing me off." She walked up to him, unsheathed her rapier, and stabbed him, feeling the bone and connective tissue snap as she drove her blade into the soft spot beneath his sternum. She never would have done anything of the kind if the paladin had been there to chide her, but the paladin was not there, and would never be there again. She put a boot to his chest as he gasped and gurgled, and withdrew her blade. She nudged him, as he fell backwards, and he went off the cliff entirely and landed in a twisted mound below.

"Addie... I thought you said..." Shandra started.

Adahni waved her aside, "I said he pissed me off. Let's get this Haven debaucle over with and go home."


	70. Jerro's Macabre Menagerie

She lay the bottle of acid at the golem's feet. With mechanical eyes, it looked out upon the valley, the lit braziers, the corpse of the shaman crumpled at the bottom of the cliff. It then turned its gaze to Shandra and paused, expectantly.

"Watch my back in case this summons something bad," she said. She unbandaged an oozing cut on her arm, and let the red liquid run onto the dusty ground. "There," she said, "It's done. Now wha..."

In a flash of light, she was gone. Over the past year or so, Adahni had become somewhat used to people disappearing, re-appearing, teleporting, moving this way and that through unearthly means. Something about the speed and suddenness with which the farmer had gone did not sit quite right with her.

"Where'd she go?" Khelgar asked, scratching his head.

"Probably somewhere in there. Come on, keg-on-legs, let's go find her," said Adahni, striding forth into a dark crack in the mountainside.

Adahni wasn't quite sure what she suspected out of this "haven." Experience had taught her to plan for the scariest possible, full of the nastiest beasts with the biggest claws. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light within, she beheld a great cavern. The natural rock had been left on some walls, the others paneled with wood. The floor was inlaid with what looked like obsidian and crackling with magical energy. In the corner, a great portal stood, emanating a faint red glow. Following the light from the portal, she saw a familiar figure. He was sitting, his back to the wall, within the confines of a circle of murky gray light.

"So tell me," Adahni said, "What does an ancient and powerful devil like yourself have to do to get trapped in a summoning circle not once, but twice?"

Mephasm, for it was he, the old fiend they had encountered in the githyanki den, rose slowly and painfully, "It is a bit shameful, is it not, that a pithy human warlock could trap some of the most bloodthirsty hellspawn in the Abyss and Nine Hells and bend them to his own whims."

"Warlock?" Adahni asked, "Ammon Jerro, you mean?" The image of a warlock, a powerful and malevolent magician, was entirely at odds with the image she had had of Jerro, whom she had imagined was a savvy, yet elderly, and perhaps senile old sorceror. "Did you see a woman, mid-twenties, ash-blond hair, come by here?" she asked, "Jerro's granddaughter, she disappeared as soon as she got the door to open for us."

He shook his head slowly, "I do not know what that whim is," Mephasm continued, "He has one of us trapped in each of his rooms here. They summon their minions, send them to do battle with one another like a bloody great game of chess. I prefer to sit this one out."

"Like a zoo," Khelgar said softly, "That's odd... and a bit frightening I won't lie."

"He uses them as a lock," Mephasm said, "Each can manipulate their portal such to grant access to his laboratory. I'm afraid that is the only advice I can give you. You'll need the help of three of them."

"How do I convince demons to help me?" Adahni asked. This was certainly not in any of her books, or anything she'd ever read.

"That will have to depend on the demon," Mephasm replied, "But I'd hurry, if I were you. Your little Jerro may not have much time. I'd start by going that way." He pointed one long and gnarled finger down the hallway to the left, "The fiend in there is not going to like you, but I have faith in your powers of manipulation."

"Thanks," Adahni said, "I guess..."

They crept along the hallway, as much as a group of four could be said to creep when every step seemed to echo like a firecracker off the high ceilings of the haven. The first door lead them into a room, at the center of which was a summoning circle, much like the one Mephasm was imprisoned in. The demon imprisoned within was a great horned creature, standing fourteen feet tall, its wings curved protectively over its bare torso. It looked up when it saw that it had company, though it did not look surprised in the least.

"It steps forward to let me see it more clearly," it rumbled, its red eyes falling on Adahni.

"I'm fine where I am, thanks," she said, taking a step back over the threshold.

"It has a pip-squeaky voice, so much like a female, but also like many of the lesser mortal races. Is it female?"

"What are you?"

"I am Baalbisan," the demon said, "I repeat. Is it female?"

Adahni got the feeling that any demon so concerned with the gender of a mortal couldn't have anything good in its mind. "Does it really matter?" she asked.

"It must be very dumb not to know if it is a female," the demon observed, "I will trust that it is not female, despite its frail appearance and shrill voice. Why does it come before me?"

"You're trapped here, aren't you?" asked Adahni.

"I am. Along with other fiends... all trapped here with each other. Only Hezebel grates on me... she sends her erinyes to torment me with their shrill, taunting voices and their sickly sweet stench."

"If I deal with this Hezebel, will you help open the portal?" asked Adahni.

"Kill the erinyes, and return," Baalbisan commanded, pointing with a taloned finger down the corridor on the other end of the chamber.

"All right," Adahni said, "We have a plan. This is positive."

"Shut up, Farlong," Bishop growled, "This is bad enough without a running commentary."

"Ah, there's the ranger we know and love," Adahni sighed.

They crept around the summoning circle and followed the corridor. They were met midway by a group of scantily-clad female devils. In size and appearance, they looked like overgrown elves with grayish coloring, and unnaturally perky breasts. They did not, however, appear to be hostile.

"Hold, sister," their leader said, her voice crackling along the hall, "You have nothing to fear from us. Our mistress would speak with you."

"Aren't those the devils we were sent to kill?" Bishop hissed in her ear.

"Hold up," she said, putting her hand up to silence him, "Only a foolish shopper buys the first item she sees."

"We'll go," she called to the erinyes, "Lead on."

"Looks like they're inviting us into a trap. We going to play along?" asked the ranger.

"How about," Adahni said coldly, "You stop questioning everything I say, and just do it?"

"Of course, captain," Bishop replied.

"I didn't invite you along for your brainpower," Adahni replied, "Keep your mouth shut and let the grownups do their job, all right?"

The ranger looked a little put out, but Adahni took a certain perverse delight in putting him in his place. She followed the troop into yet another room with yet another summoning circle. In the center of this summoning circle stood a winged fiend who looked much like her minions, but with long, black hair.

"What have you brought me, my sisters?" she asked, "A diversion?"

"Mortal trespassers, dearest Hezebel," the erinyes said, "They come from Baalbisan."

"So..." Hezebel said, twisting a strand of hair around one carefully manicured figure, "Baalbisan has enlisted a lesser species to do his bidding. Tell me, what task did he set for you?"

"I'm not working for him, I just need help opening the portal to the laboratory," Adahni said, "Now, if you were to make a better offer..."

"Ahhh," Hezebel said, sighing, "I'm sure we could arrange something." She thought for a moment, her coal black eyes shutting, "I have heard that when you upset Baalbisan, really infuriate him, he will blurt out the True Name of his abysmal matron, like it is a curse. I would know this name."

"Of course, he would have mommy issues," Adahni muttered, "This sounds a lot more fun than sparring with a bunch of erinyes. We have a deal."

"Infuriating a balor doesn't sound like the wisest course of action," Zhjaeve remarked, "Are you sure?"

"He's trapped in a summoning circle," Adahni reasoned, "He isn't going to do us much harm."

"Know that I am hopeful that you are correct."

They returned to Baalbisan's chambers. The great balor turned them, his eyes blazing. "It dares to return to me with my bidding unfulfilled? Begone before it angers me."

"And what are you doing to do about it, trapped in that circle?" Adahni asked, smiling.

The balor let loose a great roar. "My memory is longer than a thousand of its lifetimes and my wrath is legion!"

"Yes there you lie, trapped in a summoning circle with no escape," Adahni remarked, boldly stepping forward. If the circle did not hold, she had no doubt that the fiend could lash out with one of its hands and throw her against the wall with one blow.

"Bethshiva take it!" he swore, "I will see it suffer for its insolence! Curses... even the sound of my matron's name drives me mad! Oh, Bethshiva may the tanar'ri females bind you for their pleasure!"

"Kinky!" Bishop remarked, as Baalbisan sank into a kneeling position, curling his wings around him like a cloak.

"That was easy," Adahni said, sighing, "You'd think immortals would have gotten used to our ploys by now." They returned to Hezebel, who was picking at her nails.

"Bethshiva," Adahni said, triumphantly.

"Short, for a true name," Hezebel noted, looking up at the bard, "True names are supposed to be long for beings of great power, as I would have thought a balor's matron would be. Perhaps that is Baalbisan's great secret... that his mother is a lesser fiend."

"Mommy issues, I knew it," Adahni said, rolling his eyes, "So, about your end of the bargain..."

Hezebel waved her away with a hand and knelt, placing both palms flat on the stone floor. In the corner, where Adahni saw there was a stone archway, a beam of light issued from the floor, stretching to the top of the arch.

"Now move on," the fiend cackled, "But you were such a pleasant diversion!"

They left the room from the opposite door, finding a winding passage beyond. The next chamber, of the same size and shape of the others. The fiend in that circle was a great blue hulk with spikes protruding from its back. He looked vaguely familiar, though she dismissed it as her having seen an illustration of his particular species in a book once. Adahni sighed and steeled herself, hoping that whatever lesser fiends this one could summon would not look a thing like him.

"You!" it hissed, "Zaxis cannot guess how you got in here! You just wait. The Master will come and crush you, then give your remains to Zaxis to feast on!"

"Lovely to see you too, Zaxis," Adahni called, remember from where she remembered this particular lump of demonic flesh.

"Were Zaxis not trapped here, Zaxis would soon be tasting strips of your flesh in the bowels of the Abyss."

"Operative word being "were,"" Adahni commented, "However, I do seem to be in need of your services. Perhaps we might reach some sort of... bargain?"

"What? You want Zaxis to help you? Why in the steaming Hells would Zaxis ever help you?"

"That summoning circle must be awfully cramped. Hezebel at least has room to sit, and stretch out, but you... you must have been standing there for ages!"

"You cannot free Zaxis," the fiend said, sounding almost sad, "Only Master has that power, and he will destroy you when he arrives. He will let you run, but when he grows bored of you, he will crush you beneath his heel. But... Zaxis does not want to wait for master!" The fiend closed his eyes, and to Adahni's horror, he did, in fact, summon three fiends very like himself, bursting forth from the portal in a flash of fire and a whiff of brimstone. The Hezrous charged, and Adahni backed off instinctively, beyond the small doorway from whence they came. The great fiends stopped in front of it, and she held her breath, hoping to all the gods that they could not figure out they could probably rip the stones from the walls and smash through them like a toddler through a sandcastle.

Fortunately, intelligence was not the Hezrous' strong suit, and the three of them stood there, trying to reach through the door to claw them.

"Bishop..." Adahni said, "This is why I asked you along."

"On it," the ranger replied, "I only hope I have enough arrows for the fish in this barrel!"

His bow sang as he loosed arrow after arrow, his hands going so quickly and gracefully from quiver to string that Adahni could not follow the movement with her eyes. One by one, the three hezrous fell, their eyes and faces pincushions, and evaporated, only to rematerialize somewhere in the Abyss. When she was sure they were defeated, she crept back into the room, and cautiously approached Zaxis.

"Zaxis' minions are beaten, and Zaxis will waste no time on you," the fiend said, sounding for all the world like he was pouting.

"Tell me the name of your master," Adahni said. She imagined that with fiends' lousy measures of time, he would think Jerro still alive and about to return at any moment, thus making this information useless.

"Zaxis does not do as you tell him, little crunchy meatling. Zaxis will keep his knowledge to himself and watch you seethe at his silence."

"Balls," Adahni swore, "Well I won't be giving you that satisfaction. Let's see if there's any others in this damn place who'll give us a hand. Er... claw." She shook her head, and started towards the door.

_Can you hear me? _the voice was faint, and Adahni drew her blade, looking for where it had come from. _Can you hear me?_ it asked again, and she paused. None of her companions had heard it; they were looking like her as though she'd grown another head.

_Shandra? _she thought, imagining that that was the best way to respond.

_Oh good, _Shandra's voice in her head said, _I was afraid that wouldn't work. Listen, this place is sealed by demons... and devils. But listen... they say tha their lord is unbeatable._

_Hang in there,_ Adahni thought, _Stay where you are, we're going to try to get to you._

_I don't think we can get to each other yet - I've tried... Be careful. I don't think they were lying, _the farmer's voice echoed in her skull.

"I think... I think Shandra can use this place to project her thoughts, "Adahni said, "I just heard her in my head."

"That's it, she's cracked," Khelgar said, "Let's get out of her and get her to a sanitarium!"

"Hush, dwarf," the gith priestess admonished him, "What did she say?"

"Same thing these fiends have been saying - that their master is unbeatable."

"Everyone is beatable," Bishop said, "Just have to hack at them long enough."

"Come on, then," Adahni said, "Maybe the next fiend can shed some light on this."

They continued through more passageways. When they came to the next door, she found that, not only was it locked, but that it shot a shower of sparks at her, which she quickly evaded.

"Stupid Neeshka and her stupid wedding," she fumed, jiggling the door handle. It held fast. "She'd make short work of this crap."

"Move," Khelgar commanded

She obliged, moving out of the way just as he swung the haft of his axe at the door handle. The force of blow nearly forced it off of its hinges.

"I can't imagine sleeping in a place like this," Khelgar said, peering inside. Adahni peeked over his head, and saw what looked very much like a bedroom, "With the stink of demons. I imagine Jerro always had nightmares."

"Now that's odd," the ranger said, pointing to the bed.

"What is?"

"For someone who's supposed to be the brains of the operation, you're terribly unobservant," he shot at her.

She followed his gaze to the bed. The covers were unmade, one pillow on the floor.

"That is odd," she replied.

"Someone's been sleeping here," Bishop said, "And recently."

"Then we'd best take a look around before whoever it is returns," Adahni said, "And remind me to have a word with Shandra about relatives she might have and not know about."

"Or know about and not want to talk about," Bishop said, "She's how old? Thirty? Thirty-five?"

"Thirty-four," Adahni said, "This summer."

"If she'd had a child young, he'd be quite old enough to have a command of the black arts."

Adahni wanted to say of course not, that this was a ridiculous idea, and slap him for suggesting such a thing, but now that he mentioned it it was entirely possible.

"Small town like Highcliff, people talk," Bishop said, "Illegitimate child, unmarried teenage girl..."

"Not every family is like yours," she retorted, putting an end to that line of conversation.

"You can be a real fucking cunt when you want to be, you know that?" he muttered as he passed her, and stalked out into the corridor, where he stayed, sulking.

Adahni, regretting her words, and not knowing quite what else to do, continued inspecting the room. The dwarf and the gith did the same, having learned to stay out of the way of her spats with the ranger. Feeling the same compulsion she usually did around books, she approached a large oaken one at the end of the room. Floor to ceiling, it was stacked with volumes, old and well-bound. As she approached, her eye fell on a small statuette perched on one of the shelves. It was an imp, a little winged thing with a pointed tail, sitting sadly in front of a book. She picked it up to see what the book was, and nearly dropped it. It was not a statuette at all, but a real imp, living and breathing, warm to the touch, but entirely immobile. She moved it to the side and opened the book.

"Ahh, you're not a very bright little one are you," she said, looking at the imp, "Mucking about in magics you don't understand."

"Are you talking to yourself again?" Khelgar called.

"Yes, I've gone stark raving mad," she replied.

She skimmed the pages, which were written in an obscure Netherese script that she had studied briefly as a child. It looked to be a book of simple spells. Paging through, she found the passage marked "Prison." Looking at the imp, she clumsily sounded out the incantation written under it.

The change was immediate and drastic. The imp, freed, leapt into the air and clicked its heels. "FREEEE!" it squealed. It hovered over and threw its little arms as far around Adahni's neck as it could, and then flapped off and out through the doorway. "More to explore! More to explore!" it cackled as it flew.

She followed it halfheartedly out into the corridor, where Bishop was re-stringing his bow. He didn't look up at her.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No," he said, "You were right. It's not a nice thing to accuse Shandra of, and she's overall not been an indecent human being." He finished with his bow and gave her hair a playful tug, letting her know that at least that transgression was forgiven. "But you're still a fucking cunt."


	71. Defeat

"Visitors," the winged and horned denizen of the next chamber rumbled as the group walked cautiously through the door, "A rare occurrence these days. What can I do for you, mortal?"

"It sounds reasonable," Khelgar commented.

"A name would be lovely," Adahni said, politely.

"I am Koraboros," the demon replied.

"Who is your master?" Adahni asked.

"He is powerful, ruthless, unstoppable," Koraboros replied, "He looks human, but I suspect he's much, much more."

"I suppose I'll find out whether or not he's unstoppable in quite short order," Adahni said, "But first, would you help me open a portal to his laboratory?"

"Hm!" the demon mused, stroking his chin, "Bold. Suicidal, but bold. I think I like you. Not enough to help you with out a price, however."

"Let me guess," Adahni said, "Take part in some petty warfare against another fiend?"

"Not quite," he replied, "There is an imp who serves as my eyes and ears in this place. I've not seen him for some time, and I want you to locate him and see that he is able to return to me."

"Yes," Adahni said, "I freed him. You should tell him to be more careful around arcane books he doesn't quite understand."

"Interesting," the demon said, smiling a toothy smile, "Will you show me these phrases?"

"If it freed the imp, couldn't he use it to free himself?" Khelgar whispered.

Adahni looked up at the fiend, "You've been reasonable with me," she said, "So I'll be reasonable with you. A show of good faith, if you will." She held up the book, and waited while his eyes passed over the words.

"You would do well to hold on to that," Koraboros said, nodding sagely, "You have no idea how much you have helped me." He knelt, as the erinyes had done, and whispered a phrase to the flagstones.

"That was too easy," Bishop said, uneasily.

"We can worry about that part later," Adahni said, "Let's get Shandra and get out of here."

They were met in the next room by a host of female demons, smaller than the erinyes. Like the others, they had apparently not heard the fighting in armor, rather than underclothes that barely covered their ample breasts, was all the rage. They fell beneath Adahni's sword and Zhjaeve's staff, though Khelgar and Bishop, swayed by some magic, hesitated to strike them.

"Well done!" a tinkling laugh came from the next room. Upon further inspection, it belonged to a winged succubus. Even Adahni had to remark on the creature's beauty, though her red hair was cropped short and her wings looked a bit ragged around the edges. Bishop grunted and adjusted his breeches.

"An aasimar!" she exclaimed, "What a waste of otherwise impressive breeding. Then again, celestials always did produce such pathetic offspring."

"I'm not going to dignify that one with a response," Adahni said, "I did make short work of your servants."

"Oh them!" the succubus scoffed, "They are fodder. I surround myself with them for amusement. But oh, how I long for more masculine company."

"I'm spoken for!" Khelgar announced solidly, but his voice cracked on the last syllable.

The succubus had barely registered the dwarf's presence, but her eyes fell on Bishop almost immediately, "Oh, but wait... look at this. A male vessel with a soul so much like a dagger that it barely keeps itself in its sheath. What back does that dagger seek, I wonder?"

"Phallic imagery will get you nowhere," the ranger said, "I've already got my share of demons. Taunt and tempt me all you want, but your little act bores me."

Adahni was too busy snickering at the succubus's double entendre to listen to him.

"Oh, if this form displeases you, perhaps taking the form of your noble leader would stir that heart of yours."

"It's not my heart you're after and you know it. If you think you'll get a rise out of me that way, you are sadly fucking mistaken," the ranger declared, a little too forcefully, Adahni thought.

"Such restrained anger!" the succubus exclaimed, clapping her hands together, "You are wasted on the open road, scout, when you could be keeping a woman's bed warm."

"That's enough," Addie declared before the ranger could say another word, "You've enjoyed watching us squirm with your little plays on words, now will you help us open the portal to the laboratory?"

"Oh is that all? I was hoping you wanted something far more interesting," the succubus yawned. "My eyelids are growing heavy – talking with you is making me sleepy. Perhaps a little bloodletting shall arouse me."

With a sound like a bell, the portal opened and out poured more succubi. As the fiends' fighting style seemed to include no more than slapping, scratching, and the occasional hair-pull, they were altogether less formidable foes than the wizardesses dueling outside of the Sunken Flagon.

"Oh yes!" the succubus cried out, sounding as though she were in the throes of climax, "That was wonderful!" She stood there, panting for a moment, and then produced a smoke from somewhere, and lit up, blowing the sweet tobacco smoke in Adahni's face, "I haven't been so entertained since Koraboros used to send his hellhounds to attack me. I have no idea why he stopped."

"Let me guess," Adahni sighed, "You want me to go ask him to start again, and then you'll open the portal for me."

"Well at least you have brains, if not beauty," the succubus said, "Be quick about it! Chop chop! Time's a-wasting!"

She trudged back towards Koraboros's chamber, leaving her companions behind. He was standing in his circle as had had been before, grimacing at the portal in the corner. "What now?" he said.

"I have a request to relay from the succubus down the hall," Adahni said.

"Blooden? What does that buxom bitch want?" he muttered.

"She misses the battles between your hellhounds and her succubi."

"Does she now," Koraboros said, "Her plot to weaken and humiliate me couldn't be more transparent."

"Well, if you're afraid to lose, then I'll just go back and tell her that," Adahni said, smirking a bit.

"Defeat is unlikely," the fiend said, not falling into her ploy to play upon his male ego, "I am not fool. Zaxis will not doubt send his hezrou into my domain while my pets are away and claim a victory against me."

Adahni doubted the hezrou would be smart enough to take advantage of the situation, "But would you rather risk having Zaxis and Blooden to attack you at the same time?"

The fiend paused, and seemed to be considering her proposition, "I suppose it's possible," he conceded. "Very well, I will provide you a portion of my forces. Lead them to victory. But don't underestimate Blooden. She is treacherous, and smarter than she looks."

Out of nowhere, two hulking dogs materialized, their eyes glowing orange and their muzzles dripping with drool. She lead them back along the hallway, nipping at her heels, to her companions and the succubus.

"Oh excellent!" the succubus exclaimed, taking her eyes from, "So, which side are you on?"

"Oh, hells no..." Adahni said, "I'm staying out of this one.

"Unacceptable. Succubi! Destroy them and the hounds!"

As it turned out, it was a good choice. The hounds growled, and leapt at the female demons' throats, tearing them to shreds. Blooden watched the whole affair, shrieking with delight. "Oh!" she screamed, "That was amazing! You have made me so very happy."

"I'm so glad to hear that," Adahni replied, rolling her eyes.

"You have my help. And then I'm taking a nap," the succubus said, "You're going to die in there, you know. A pity I won't be able to watch."

"She might be right," the ranger said as the portal yawned open.

"Know that that is a risk we take on a daily basis," the gith, who had been oddly silent through the whole ordeal, said.

"How comforting," he said.

"Stop being a little girl, or shall I lace your corset up a little tighter," Khelgar rumbled, "Come on, then, no sense in waiting here like the pack of fools we are."

Adahni looked to her companions, and one by one, they stepped into the portal. The feeling was not one of normal teleportation via magical means, which sometimes left her dizzy. This one lit a flame of dread deep within her stomach, almost enough to make her sick. She awoke, retching in a large room smelling of rotten eggs. Great cracks in the floor showed the source; pits of magma flowed below the room, making it unbearably hot. Only Zhjaeve seemed untroubled by this, and sat, serenely as ever, taking in her surroundings.

Wiping her mouth, Addie rose, and took a step towards the wall to further examine some of the texts on the bookshelves that lined them. As her foot hit the flagstone, a bell sounded, far off, and she heard the ranger curse.

"Well, looks like we walked into another ambush," he declared, glaring at her.

"Don't like the sound of that," Khelgar said, fingering the blade of his ax.

"Our presence is now known to the guardians of this place. Steel yourselves," the gith said, her voice never breaking.

In a flash of light, they were no longer alone. To Adahni's horror, the she remembered from the Mask had appeared, the tattoos on his bald head and face still glowing with an unearthly light. He strode towards them, his eyes pale and angry, growling like an animals.

"So much for my theory," Bishop said, "That man's sixty if he's a day."

"Intruders," he spat. Adahni shrank back involuntarily, "Unbidden and unwelcome. Are you prepared to pay the price?"

"So it's you," she said, "You've been behind all this?"

"You!" he exclaimed, "How you entered my haven is a mystery, but it was a mistake... one which will soon be..." With a twist of his hand, he cast some silent spell, and a bolt of pain shot through Adahni's chest, as though someone had thrust his hand into an open wound and was fishing around to tear out her very heart. "Why, you have brought gifts. You carry the shards, and one is even lodged... inside you!" the warlock cried triumphantly. Woodenly, Adahni turned, longing to cry out in pain, but refusing to give him the satisfaction. "Let me take those off your hands... and from your corpse."

Mercifully, the pain gave way, but Adahni had precious little time to enjoy the comparative ecstasy before the old man had raised his hands and summoned a host of demons, intent on tearing them apart. Khelgar was his sturdy little self, laying about with his ace, scattering black blood and demon limbs across the floor. Zhjaeve patched them up as best she could, though Adahni was left with two large gorges down her ribcage. In the heat of battle, she lost sight of the ranger, but as the last demon fell and she wiped the black blood from her eyes, she saw that he had put his bow on his back, and had the warlock pinned up against the wall. She saw the fear in the old man's eyes; the younger man was pressing his forearm awful tightly against his throat, the warlock's fists flailing uselessly against his broad back. With his other hand, the ranger had the sorcerer's tongue pinched between two fingers.

"Not so tough without your incantations, are you, old man?" he snarled, "Now, I'm going to let up on your windpipe and loose your tongue. You make one move to summon any more of those horned buggers, and I will slice your throat." He let up the pressure on the old man's neck, and let his tongue go, as promised, but swiftly drew his little hunting knife and held to the warlock's chest.

"Fools!" he shouted, once he got his wind back, "You think you have _won? _You are... fools! The Haven... it is the source of my power..."

"Your haven?" Adahni gasped, "_You're _Ammon Jerro? But... how is that possible? You'd be ancient! Wizened!"

"Know that the dark arts have their benefits," Zhjaeve murmured behind her.

"You know it could have been him this whole time, and you didn't say anything?" Adahni whirled to glare at the priestess, "Here I was thinking we were dealing with the remnants of some crazy old man's science experiment, and he's been here the whole time?"

"I had hoped..."

"Well you hoped wrong," Adahni snarled.

"You and your allies are stronger than I had anticipated, but I will bear these indignities no longer. This entire sanctuary is my weapon. All who are trapped here fuel my power!"

With a swift motion, he threw the ranger back. Surprised, he flailed in the air, hit the opposite wall with an echoing _crack_, and fell in a heap on the floor.

"I can harness the energies of this place, _bind _them to me!" Jerro declared, "I can summon flames from the walls, turn the air in your lungs to _fire! _And you... you are nothing more than leaves caught in the storm. Did you really think you could face me here and survive?"

The room became even hotter, and Adahni saw flames crackling along the walls.

"Wrong choice of element," she muttered, feeling the blood of dragons course through her veins, cooling her, even as her companions began to sweat.

_You can't beat him, _Shandra's voice echoed in Adahni's head, _the only way to do it is to free the demons – they're granting all his power. There's a way to stop him, but it's going to require some blood being spilt... mine. _

"Just get out of here!" Adahni cried, "We'll figure something out."

_No._

"This is the end for you," the warlock announced, "I will bury your bodies in the walls of this place, and leave you to... to..." He suddenly grimaced, "What... what have you done?"

In another flash and tone of a bell, he disappeared. A portal gaped open in the corner of the room.

"We'll have to go after him,"she said, turning to her companions, "Is the ranger dead?"

"He lives," the gith, who was kneeling over the ranger's motionless form. Her hands glowed blue, and he opened his eyes.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Adahni said, "But it looks like another door has opened."

"That's the only way out," he sighed, "Ahh... my head."

"Come on, you great wuss," Khelgar said, tugging the ranger up. He scrambled to his feet.

"Never let a wounded mage go free," he said, and strode right into the portal.

They were back in the first chamber they had entered, and an empty summoning circle stood in the center of the room where the devil Mephasm had once stood. The man with the glowing tattoos – Ammon Jerro – was standing, staring at something on the floor in front of him. He made no move as Adahni approached him. He did not even appear to register her presence.

She felt her heart drop into her boots as she saw what he was gazing at. Her ash-blond hair was spread out on the floor around her head, her blue watchman's cape curled around her protectively. The scythe she used both to reap her crops and her enemies lay, useless, in her outstretched arm. Her hazel eyes were open, but they saw nothing.

"Shandra..." she said.

"Face us, you coward," Khelgar roared when he saw the corpse.

"His will has been broken by his own hands," Zhjaeve said quietly, "His threat to us is over."

"Kill him," the ranger said, "Do to him what he did to her." Adahni looked at him, surprised that he was showing anything resembling sympathy.

"Now you really are alone," Adahni said, "The last of your line."

"Stay your weapons," the mage said, not looking up, "Lest this tragedy give birth to another. Kill me now, and this place will collapse. In my blindness, I have done a great wrong. Perhaps it is not too late to rectify it... and where one was lost, I still might save you all. Only a fraction of power remains in my Haven, but it will be enough to take us from this place." He reached down and picked up his granddaughter's corpse, cradling her in his arms as though she weighed nothing at all. Painfully, he raised head and spoke an incantation. A white light engulfed the room, and they were transported.


	72. Resolve

They found themselves in a familiar area. Two burnt out skeletons marked where a house and barn had once stood, and patches on the grass marked where there once had been haystacks. The fields had fallen fallow since the farmer had taken up the sword, but some of the barley had sprouted, and its bearded heads waved in the air, waiting for their mistress to harvest them.

"How did you know to come here?" Adahni asked quietly.

"It was my daughter's house," Ammon Jerro said, "Come now. The weather's unseasonably warm. Let us do what needs to be done."

"She was a member of the Watch of Neverwinter and an honored solider in Lord Nasher's service," Adahni challenged him, "You can't just bury her on some farm in Highcliff. She deserves a funeral. A coffin. Bagpipes. _Something!_"

"Lass," Khelgar said, "Would she really want that, or would she prefer to rest quietly under the oaks?"

"She wasn't nothing!" Adahni protested, "Not just... someone to be buried secretly without a ceremony, she wasn't a nobody!"

"The old man is right," Bishop said, soberly, "Come now. She's home."

Adahni insisted on digging the grave herself, without the help of the small crowd of villagers that turned up when word had got around that someone was out at the abandoned Jerro farm. She cursed and swore as she dug her spade savagely into the loose, sandy soil. A local stonecarver lent them his talents in the from of a small, granite slab engraved with her name and a phrase from one of her favorite songs, oddly apropos._ She's gone for a soldier._

Addie remained dry-eyed as they lowered the casket – another kind donation from the townsfolk – into the grave, and as the ranger and the dwarf set about the tasks of covering her over with earth. She stayed into the night, which was becoming chilly, even as the others trickled off to town to stay at the inn.

"Was that it?" she asked the night air, "That's the end of Shandra Jerro? Is this how we all come to an end?"

As expected, the night gave her no answer.

* * *

Word had reached Crossroad Keep before the companions did. Adahni wasted little time, calling her remaining forces together to plan over mugs of Sal's harvest ale. Neeshka had already postponed her nuptials, partially out of respect and partially because she knew nobody would be in the mood to party for a good, long time.

"So Ammon Jerro was not dead, after all," Bishop said, opening the meeting by banging his mug on the table around which they sat, "By the way, I'm glad we made sure of that before running into his labyrinth of demons."

"Can it, moss-breath," Neeshka warned.

"Yes, he is alive," Sand said, "And he is much more powerful than tales ever indicated.

"More powerful than some wizard, anyway," a familiar voice piped up from the scullery. Adahni looked in alarm to see that the redheaded sorceress.. what was her name... Qara, had joined them. She made a mental note to have her sent back to the Flagon.

"More powerful than you Qara, and you would do well to believe me," the elf snapped.

"So what now? We imprison him? Throw him to the Watch?" Khelgar suggested.

"Tell me you're joking," the ranger scoffed, "He'll send the entire District to the Abyss and then he'll come after us."

Adahni felt a blast of cold air on the back of her neck, and turned to see that the door was open. Standing in the doorway was a familiar figure, and it took everything she had not to burst into noisy tears of relief.

"Justice must be served," Casavir's voice issued from the doorway. He strode into the room like he owned the place, as though he had never left, and stood behind Adahni's chair.

"I say we get what we need from him and then take care of him," Bishop said, visibly bristling as the paladin walked into the room, "No one needs to know."

"He murdered Shandra Jerro, and he must answer for it. But we will not answer murder with murder."

"And who asked you?" the ranger said, his tone waxing accusatory, "The last time I checked, our leader had relieved you of your position, and yet you come marching back in here as though you hadn't all but mutinied, and try ordering the rest of us around. I say we let her handle this... something tells me she'll straighten him out."

"And what makes you think I could kill him if I tried?" Adahni asked, turning to the ranger, "You saw what he can do, summon forth depends with the wag of a finger. He's in a dark place right now, which I suppose is good, it means some of his humanity remains..." she paused. "He buried her, properly, with his own hands."

"And what in the nine hells does that have to do with anything?" Khelgar challenged.

"I need to know what he knows," Adahni said.

"Know that Ammon is the enemy of the githyanki," Zhjaeve spoke up, "All he has done, he has done to fight the King of Shadows."

"Destroying my home in the process," Adahni said, "I would kill him if I thought I could."

"Speak with him," the githzerai said.

Adahni nodded, and swept out of the room. She climbed the long, spiral staircase to the tower cell where Jerro was being held. She waved the guards out of the way, and entered. He stood there, a fire of probably magic origins was blazing in the grate. He did not turn as he heard her enter.

"Why did you bring her to my haven? Even though she was of my bloodline, you knew she did not have the strength to survive there."

"She would have survived if you hadn't killed her."

"If you had known what you were walking into and left the matter to me, she would be alive and I would still be at my full power," he growled, "The King of Shadows has won a victory against us this day without striking a blow."

"If you were any more full of shit it would be coming out of your ears," Adahni said, "What's done is done and she's not coming back. What were you doing in your haven?"

"I have fought the King of Shadows before. I fought him... I have made pacts. I have studied him, tried to learn his weaknesses, and the extent of his power. Surely you know of the ritual of purification. I have performed a party myself already. Without it, the battle is lost before it begins. He is... more a force than anything else. But those shards you have, they are part of the Sword of Gith. It can wound the King of Shadows, like it did once, long ago."

Adahni put her hand protectively over his breastbone.

"Whether or not you like it, you are that weapon. Together, we can, and must stop him."

"And I should trust you, why? You murdered one of the Nine, you terrorized every noble in Blacklake, you slaughtered the girls at the Mask like they were nothing, you allowed your demons to destroy an entire village – _my _village! Not to mention the fact that you just ended the life of your own granddaughter in cold blood."

"You have no choice," Jerro replied, "If you kill me, the battle is lost. Without me, you cannot win."

"I will reserve punishment," Adahni said, "But don't think I will have forgotten any of this. Should we both stand when this war is over, the remainder of your existence will be short, but I will make sure that you are in enough pain that every second will pass like a year."

"Should we both stand when this war is over," Jerro repeated, "I would like to see you try."

"Guards," Adahni called, and they arrived to unlock the door. She exited, and they locked it behind her, "Don't bother emptying his chamber pot for a few days."

She made her way back down to the courtyard. She had a mind to go speak with the paladin, to see why he had returned, what he expected of her, what had transpired with his wife, but as she made her way up the hill to the keep, a breathless Kana accosted her. "Captain!" the mistress-at-arms exclaimed, "Sir Nevalle is waiting for you in the audience room."

"Nevalle?" Adahni said, confused. The well-groomed knight rarely left the walls of Neverwinter. Whatever it was, it was not trivial.

"Ill news indeed," Kana said, seizing her by the arm and all but dragging her into chamber, where Nevalle was waiting in the corner, accompanied by a small, sniveling man that Adahni had laid eyes on before.

"No doubt you've heard," Nevalle said, "Fort Locke has fallen. Nasher has summoned you, you are to report to Castle Never at once!"

"And he sent you personally to deliver this news?"

"Only you. Your companions are to wait here."

"You're kidding," Adahni said, "I've only just arrived... I can't leave the keep undefended now!"

"This is _Nasher's _keep, not yours," Nevalle said angrily "Lord Nasher's request cannot wait, and you will make haste to Castle Never. If not, this keep will have a new Knight Captain before twilight."

"I'm not one of your armored monkeys, Nevalle, and I don't take orders from you. That had best not be a threat."

"I spoke hastily," the knight said, retreating, 'The loss of Fort Locke worries me greatly, and I fear this Keep shall be next if steps are not taken."

"Kana," Adahni said, "Have the groom saddle a horse for me and one for Sir Nevalle. We will depart within the hour." Kana nodded, and took off to do her bidding.

"Command suits you," Nevalle said, "I never would have thought you capable of it if I hadn't just seen it with my own eyes."

"I'm glad I inspire such confidence," she replied drily, "Come, walk with me while our horses are made ready. I would have your counsel."

She had never really spent much time talking to Nevalle, but now that they were equals under Nasher, she felt at ease with him in a way she never had before. They toured the area, he observed Greycloaks being trained, the measurements of archer's slits. "The bandits have been cleared from the roads," she said, a lump forming in her throat as she thought of the cost of that battle, "No doubt you observed that on your way here."

"I did," he replied, "You've done well. I would hate to see this Keep fall. There is a growing darkness to the south, and this keep will play a great role in the war to come – we are still awaiting word from the defense of For Locke, but we fear the worst. But the tidings are not all ill. Lord Nasher has prepared something for you, for all your efforts in the defense of Neverwinter."

"If this Keep falls, I fall with it," she said, though she didn't really mean it.

"You've grown up a great deal, haven't you," Nevalle said, "You truly are worthy..."

"Of what?" asked Adahni.

"Knighthood," he said, smiling at her, "Why do you think Nasher sent me to find you personally?"

_Knighthood. _She smiled, and was proud for a moment, but then thought of what the ranger would say. Putting that thought from her mind, she pointed to the gates. "Look, our horses have been prepared. It's a long ride."

"I know," Nevalle said, "And we must make haste."

* * *

It felt as though she scarcely had time to breathe. After three hard days on the road, thundering across hill and dale, a saddlesore Adahni had about an hour to make herself presentable at the Sunken Flagon before she was nearly dragged up the hill into Blacklake and through the gates of Castle Never. Nevalle had thrust an outfit into her hands as they parted ways, with some instruction about putting it on. Bleary-eyed, she barely registered his speech, and numbly, she put on the armor and cape, both emblazoned with the eye of Neverwinter.

The audience chamber was less intimidating than it had been the last time she had stood there, accused of a mass murder. Was it truly only months earlier that that had transpired? She stood by Nevalle's side in an antechamber off of the throne room, wishing desperately that one of her companions, any of them (well maybe no Qara) were with her as well. Nasher entered, dignified as always, and sat himself in his great throne.

"It is no small thing you have done here," Nevalle said, "He is almost ready to receive you."

He was interrupted by a clatter and clank, and a series of loud bangs as the heavy, wrought-iron gates separating the ante-chambers from the great hall clanged shut, one by one.

"It's the ancient alarm," Nevalle said, looking about in panic, "I never thought I'd like to see this day... we are under attack!"

"Aw, what the fuck..." Adahni swore as an unearthly sound filled the room and she caught a whiff of brimstone and the decaying smell of the grave. She drew her sword, not her usual rapier, but a large, ceremonial affair that Nevalle had given to her for the purpose of her knighting. It was heavy and unwieldy in comparison, but needs must when the devil drives...

"They're here for Nasher," Nevalle said, "We have to get to him!"

One blessed thing about the undead was that, even when led by a shadow priest, they were incapable of learning. Fireball after fireball was hurled at her, and the vampire behind them could not figure out why it wasn't hurting her. She motioned Nevalle out of the way, and took the brunt of it, the fire singing her clothes but leaving her unhurt.

"I actually kind of do like this sword," she said.

"Prepare to become one with eternity!" the vampire declared, readying another impotent fireball.

"It can do this!" She swung it downward. The weight of the blade and the strength of the swing cleaved the creature's head clear from his body and sent it skittering across the floor to land at the feet of a rather sick-looking Nevalle.

"We need to reach a more defensible location," the knight said, nudging the vampire's head out of the way gingerly with one foot, "There is a guard room in the hall, round the corner from here. There we can make our stand." He took off down the hallway, with her at his heels.

"The castle has been sealed... it is part of the ancient defenses of the castle should it ever be attacked. Something we thought would never happen."

"Your grammar is still appalling," Adahni muttered.

"You must get to Lord Nasher, or all is lost."

"No way around this one, I suppose,." she sighed, "All right, I always did kind of like the guy..."

"Look behind the tapestries in the hell. One of them should hold an entrance to Neverneath, the cahmbers beneath Castle Never."

"Never would have figured that one out," she muttered again. Again, she was ignored.

"Neverneath has always been closed to us, but it is said when the Castle is in danger, a path opens for defenders of Neverwinter."

"I'm not entirely sure why it is you can't do this," Adahni sighed.

"We will try to be there as soon as the defenses are lifted."

"Asshole," she said, and went off to look at the tapestries. This was the first time in a long time she had gone into battle without even one person by her side. If she fell here, alone, she wondered who would tell her companions. How they would react. Neeshka was the most attached to her, but now she had Cormick. Khelgar had Helvynn, Casavir had Vania. The others had all remained rather cool to her, following her orders and dealing with her moods, but she would never make the mistake of calling them friends. But Bishop...

She resolved then and there that if she were to die, it would not be by herself in the bowels of Castle Never. Having decided on that, she steeled herself and, finding the door behind a large, ornate tapestry, went forth into the darkness below.


	73. The Unquiet Grave

Adahni Farishta, the newest of the Nine and knight of Neverwinter, took her sweet time getting back to her Keep. She kept the blue tunic folded up in her pack, not wanting to look as though she were bragging, though it had tasted sweet to hear Nasher praise her in front of Nevalle. She took the luxury of sleeping at inns, rather than pitching a tent, and though she knew that word of her promotion would have reached the keep before she arrived there, she hoped to savor a bit of the glory in private before being accosted by her companions. It was coming up on the equinox, and with it the Harvest fair, and her twenty-fifth birthday. It would soon be a year since the whole misadventure had begun, two since she had escaped Dayven's clutches. Neeshka would be wed soon, and perhaps her life could take on a semblance of normalcy before it all went to shit.

She thought through the tasks ahead. The assault on the King of Shadows would have to wait until Aldanon figured out where he was, and Adahni figured out what Aldanon was talking about. The alliances she would have to pick her companions' brains on. Nasher had mentioned the Ironfist Clan as owing an old debt of servitude to Neverwinter, but she doubted that the old, grizzled dwarves she had met in the Sword Mountains would be of much used. Helvynn had brought with her what was left of the Hammerforge clan, but while their ferocity was great, they numbered less than a dozen.

It was near midnight on the fifth day when she neared the keep. She could see the towers in the distance atop the rocky hill on which it stood. She had other business, though. Outside the remains of a bandit camp, several miles from the keep, there stood three cairns. They were well made; the soldiers who had built them had done so with love and sorrow in their hearts.

"Gauvran Hammerforge, a brave soldier, and beloved brother," the first epitaph read. Someone, Helvynn or one of her cousins, she imagined, had gone back having got a stonemason. Adahni knelt and placed a white daisy she had pulled from the nearby field in front of it.

"Kailing "Spods" Mackalary." the next read, "Best mate a man could ask for," Several empty bottles that had probably once contained some variety of liquor stood like soldiers beneath the cairn. Adahni pour some of her ubiquitous flask of whiskey on the ground below, took a swallow, and said, "Cheers."

She approached the third cairn, set a little away from the others, with trepidation and a little shame. In the months she had mourned and moved on with her life, she had never once been to see where her love lay.

"Jem Quarely," the epitaph read, "A good man. A kind man." It nearly struck her through the heart to see her own words carved in stone, not in the least because she knew who must have been responsible. She sat down, her back against the stone, and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Jem," she said out loud, "I didn't... I couldn't... I don't think I ever told you that I loved you while you lived, but I did." She let the tears come, dripping down over her face and over the eye of Neverwinter emblazoned on her breast. "I loved you. I should have kept you safe, given you a desk job, or something... I treated you like you were just one of my tin soldiers. I never thought..."

_Now really. I came here to have adventures, do you really think I would have taken a desk job?_

She was not sure whether the voice was in her head or came from some unearthly spirit, but there was no mistaking to whom it belonged.

"Jem..."

_I had my adventure, Addie, I got my wish, and on the night before I fell, I shared a bed with the woman I loved. It's not so bad as all that._ _My mum's here, and my brothers._

"And your cousin?"

_Yes some of my..._

"Is Kyla Bishop there?"

_Yes. She is._

"Tell her that her son is all right, and that I'm taking care of her brother like I should have been all along."

_I will._

"You know I loved you."

_And I you. That part's over now, though. You shouldn't come back here too often. Don't mourn for me any longer, please... your tears bind me here when I long to leave this world behind._

"Will I ever see you again?

_Turn away from my grave, Addie. You've a great task before you. The very ground you lie on depends on it._

She awoke the next morning when the sun was high in the sky, a little perturbed by the dream she'd had, if it was, indeed a dream. She looked up at the leaves, which were tinged with gold and orange around the edges. _Spring is a long time coming, _she thought, remembering Jem's words to her. She rose. Her horse was nibbling contentedly at some of the tall grass alongside the road. She looked down at the gravestone again. "A good man. A kind man." She kissed her fingertips and touched the top of the stone, which was warm from the sun.

"And that," she said, "Was the last night I slept next to Jem Quarely." She felt empty, but at peace, as she mounted up and rode the rest of the way to her keep.

* * *

She arrived on the grounds of the keep at noon. A courier must have beaten her there, because as she rode through the fields, farmers and their wives flocked to the road to throw flowers in her path. She blushed at the gesture, but something in her melted with pride. As she passed the small village outside the keep walls, she saw a lone rider approach her. As he drew closer, she could see that it was the paladin, beaming widely.

"Cas," she said, "I apologize we did not have the opportunity to speak before I was rushed from the keep."

"It is I who owe you an apology," he replied, clucking to his horse and turning to ride beside her.

"Forgiveness is a gift not only for the recipient, but the bestower as well," she said, "I spoke in haste that night. What made you return?"

"I once ran from my problems," Casavir said, "I ran to a monastery, and then to Old Owl Well. I realized as I made my way back to Neverwinter, that I was running from you as well."

"Am I a problem?"

"No, my lady," he said, "The fault was mine."

"And Vania?"

"She..." Casavir started, "She has chosen not to return with me. She was never happy here."

"I see," Adahni said.

"I will see her in Neverwinter when I can," he said, "She is staffing Sand's shop until such time as he can return. I believe the time away will be positive for us." He was lying, and his voice was troubled, but Adahni did not wish to press him further. "I cannot help but think that were I with you in Ammon Jerro's haven, perhaps Shandra might yet live."

"There was nothing you could have done."

"But... you were alone there, with only the dwarf and the gith for protection..."

"Bishop was with us."

"I know," he said, "I still do not understand why you trust that odious man."

"I don't," she replied, and swiftly changed the subject, "I welcome you back to my service, Sir Casavir."

"I am honored to serve so closely under one of the Nine," he said, smiling.

"I see word has preceded me," she said.

"You might say that."

They arrived at the gate in time for Adahni to see all of her companions assembled in the courtyard. After perfunctory greetings, congratulations all around, and one sweaty bear hug from Khelgar, Bishop spoke up, snidely as always. "Hear you got ambushed," he said, "But you seem all right nonetheless."

"To attack Castle Never..." Khelgar breathed.

"Know that we must carry the battle to the King of Shadows," Zhjaeve said, "We must find him, and find others who will do the same."

"Well I'm glad you're all here, because I have some tasks for you."

"Why of course, _Lady _Adahni," the ranger sneered.

"I don't know what in our history together leads you to believe that I will not beat you unconscious if you don't shut the hells up with that tone, Bishop," Adahni said, without looking at him, "I need to hear your thoughts on alliances. Anybody who would help us see this foe beaten."

"Clan Ironfist will help," Khelgar said, "They may take some convincing, but they wouldn't back down from a fight if they thought it was just."

"The lizardfolk should not be ignored... they once made their homes in the Mere, and the King of Shadows has driven them out," Elanee added, "They are fiercely territorial and are likely to hate the King of Shadows even more."

"And we could look at last for the Wendersnaven!" Grobnar exclaimed, leaping in the air and clicking his heels together.

"Gods..." muttered Sand.

"No, they're not gods!" Grobnar clarified, "They're the Wendersnaven, they exist, even if you can't see them with the eye. Or tough them. They see all, know all, and have incredible powers. IF they are on our side, we have a good chance of winning!"

"So how do we find something we can't see or touch and most likely exists in your head?" the elf challenged him.

"There's two sages at Port Llast that are said to know something of the Wendersnaven. We could ask them."

"Great! Wonderful idea! Here's some coin, Grobnar, now go to Port Llast and don't come back," Adahni said, "I mean... until you can tell us where the Wendersnaven are. I really want you to spend some time on this one. Leave no stone unturned."

"Really? I'm being given a mission?" Grobnar exclaimed, clapping his little gnome hands together, "How utterly devastating! I'll leave at once! No... I must pack my things. And hire a pony!"

"Why is he here and not home taking care of his husband, I wonder," Sand muttered.

"Yes, why isn't he taking care of you?" the ranger quipped.

"It seems," Casavir said, glaring at the two men, "that we have a number of roads open to us. And an army to build."

"Two more items on the agenda," Adahni said, "Shadow Reavers... those big hulking fellows with skulls for heads. We need to find a way to dispatch them."

"Know that will not be easy. Every time they're struck down, they reform," the githzerai said, "The only losses in a battle with them will be our own."

"There must be a way," Casavir said, "Evil always has a weakness. We just have to find it."

"Thank you, sir knight," Sand said, "It's good to see that along with Addie, we have another highly ranked official taking up residence at the keep. I'm going to call him Captain Obvious."

"That's original," Adahni sneered, "My guess is we're not the first that the reavers have threatened. We'll just have to hope that someone else has figured it out. Now, third item – where the King of Shadows resides. We need to penetrate the Claimed Lands."

"It's not going to be easy," the druid said, "The Claimed Lands kill all life that enter it... we wouldn't be able to reach the King of Shadows in time, the movement through the Mere is never swift, even in the best of times."

"If there's a path at all," the ranger groused, "We'd still need to know where we were going, and even then, we'd probably die getting there."

"As much as I hate to say it," Sand sighed, "I think we have to ask Aldanon for help on this one."

"You've just gotten yourself an assignment, Master Wizard," Addie said. The elf sighed, but knew better than to argue with her. He turned on his heel and stalked off in search of the senile old sage.

"All right, that's all," she said Everyone put your brains on it, and figure something out."

The group scattered back to their usual haunts, presumably to do her bidding, and Adahni went up to her room to change and take a nap. Not much to her surprise, the ranger was waiting for her, seated at her desk and poring over her maps.

"You know," he said not looking up. He picked up one of her tin soldiers that she used to plot battle strategy, and turned it in his hands, "I think you almost had me fooled the last time, when you got this place, and you gave me some speech that you didn't care about noble titles beyond getting more coin."

She snorted, "I don't see why it concerns you one way or another."

"I think you like it," he said, seized the figurine in his hands and standing, "I think you like it a little too much, being able to order people around, just say the word and have them hop to."

"Just tell me what you're getting at so we can end this conversation," she said.

"I just wanted to remind you, I'm not one of your tin soldiers," he said, "I'm not here and your beck and call to do your bidding. I'm not your subordinate."

"Really," she said, meeting his gaze, "I was under the impression you've been taking orders from me pretty regularly for several months now."

"Taking orders!" he scoffed, "I do what you say when your judgment is good. You're lucky it's been pretty good, otherwise you would find me singing a different tune!"

She rolled her eyes, and he surprised her by grabbing her by her shoulders, "I'm dead fucking serious, Addie, don't be surprised if I disappear. I'm here of my own accord, and I owe you nothing."

"You're free to leave," she replied, "I wonder that you're not doing me and everyone else here a great disservice by staying."

He kissed her violently, like he had that night two years before as she stood bruised and beaten over the corpse of his sister's murderer. She whimpered against him, but did not push him away. She was strong, as strong as he, and had survived. She seized him by the shoulders and pushed him down onto the bed. It was more like a brawl than lovemaking, each seeking the upper hand. It left them both bruised; Bishop with a black eye that Addie's elbow had made contact with, her with a bruised lip from being forced down, face-first. Spent and bleeding, they lay there staring at each other angrily.

"We really have a lot of issues, don't we," the ranger said.

Addie nodded in agreement, wiping the blood from her lip, "You could say that."


	74. A Ruddy Great Night Indeed

The keep fell empty over the next two weeks. Outside, the greycloaks trained. Far to the west, brave little Grobnar had gone, with the protection of the paladin, in search of the Wendersnaven in Port Llast. To the north, Khelgar and a band from Clan Hammerforge engaged in talks with Clan Ironfist for the allegiance of the dwarf lords of the Sword Hills, while Elanee delved deep into the Mere of Dead Men in search of the chief of the lizardmen. Adahni did her work as she did best, up to her elbows in books in the library. While Aldanon searched for the secrets of infiltrating the stronghold of the King of Shadows, Adahni labored by his side, studying strategy, diplomacy, and legend.

"Have you ever heard of the Wendersnaven, Sand?" she asked him absently. She had a great tome of Gnomic lore open in front of her and was reading it very slowly with the help of a dictionary. The dictionary was, unfortunately, Gnomic-Elvish, and so she found herself having to laboriously translate the words from Gnomic into Elvish, and while Elvish she had learned as a child, shortly after learning Common, often the words were unfamiliar. She had located the one passage on the Wendersnaven, deep within the ancient book. It was a scant paragraph long, but she had been hacking away at the translation for hours and had only, "Roads – great – meet – cross – life – decide" scrawled in her notebook.

"Don't tell me you believe in that nonsense, too," Sand muttered. He was scrawling away at his own project. He had gotten it into his head that if he himself was not going to be the savior of Faerun, he would damn well be the historian who wrote it down and kept it for posterity, and had been furiously scribbling down everything that had occurred with the shards since he had walked into the Sunken Flagon that ill-fated fall morning nearly a year before.

"Roads. Great. Meet. Cross. Life. Decide," Adahni said. She frowned and scratched her forehead with her quill. "_Tul a merend._"

"Come to pass," Sand said, a little annoyed, "Colloquially, the future, at least where I'm from, but I'm not sure what doggerel your father speaks."

Adahni muttered something very rude in the "doggerel" Daeghun had spoken to her growing up. Sand sniffed the air, preferring not to dignify it with a response, though Adahni was fairly sure he knew exactly what she had just told him to do and with whom.

"It's completely useless, you know," he said after a moment's silence, "The gnomes are only recently a literate people. Even I couldn't decipher it with that dictionary you're using, let along you and your second hand Elvish."

"_Most of the time, I like you, Sand, but right now you are pissing me the fuck off,_" she said in fine, high Elvish, mimicking Sand's speech, "_Luskan accent and all!_"

"_Not bad,_" he conceded, "_If you were an Elvish child I would rap your knuckles with a ruler, but not bad for a round-ear."_

She slammed her tome shut, "This is telling me nothing," she said, "There's absolutely no syntax to Gnomic... it's like they're purposely trying to make no sense. It's all a word salad, as though they just cut up a dictionary and threw it in the air and where the words fall, there they shall lie!"

"So young, and so jaded," Sand muttered, "Off with you, do something useful for a change!"

"I'm getting a drink."

"Or you could do that."

It was just past sunset as she made her way out of the deep stacks of the library on her way to the Phoenix Tail Inn. She smelled smoke, acrid on the air, as she walked through the great main doors to the keep, and paused, sniffing. "Greycloak!" she barked.

"Yes captain!" one of the young men standing sentry outside responded. A glorious little thrill of power wriggled deep in Addie's belly at his obeisance.

"What's that smell?"

"I don't rightly know, ma'am, Sergeant Starling sent out riders to scour the countryside," he said, "Must be a whole village in flames to have us smell it all the ways up here."

"Where are you from, lad?" she asked, though he could have been no more than a year or two younger than she.

"Lanton, ma'am," he replied.

"I see, so you know the smell of a village burning."

"Yes, captain," he said.

"Good lad," she said, patting him on the shoulder. She made her way down the hill, through the small collection of houses, and to the gates of the outer wall. She saw riders approaching, and flagged them down as they drew near. One of the scouts, a fair-haired girl whom Adahni had noticed here and there, dismounted and hurried to her.

"What news, scout?" Adahni asked.

"Ill news, my lady, a village to our southwest is in flames. Halflings..."

"Halflings did it?" Adahni asked incredulously.

"It's a Halfling village, my lady," the scout said, "Most have managed to escape into the woods, but they're not an adventuring folk."

"Send a force of Greycloaks to evacuate them here."

"Here, my lady?"

Adahni shrugged, "They're small, we can make room."

"Yes, Captain."

She paused, and saw in her minds eye a young buccaneer, all of three and a half feet tall, and still the most fearsome man she had ever laid eyes on. She wondered what had become of Captain Cullygan and the Dance of the Damned, if they still sailed the Sword Coast raiding villages and plundering merchant ships, or if they had found greener pastures further to the south and east. She watched as a small company of greycloaks saddled up and rode out into the darkness, acknowledging them with a wave of her hand. As their thundering hoofbeats faded off into the distance, she heard another, softer set approaching. As she watched the darkness apprehensively, a very small rider on a very small horse appeared over a rise to the south. She squinted at him as he approached. _Can't be, _she thought, _Some coincidences are just too... _

"Well 'allo there, love!" the familiar cadence of the halfling pirate came. Seated on his shetland pony, he was at eye level with her, "Bit of a chill on the air tonight, wouldn't you say? Good night for a bloodbath, eh?"

"Captain Cullygan!" she exclaimed.

"Aye aye, for sure and certain, that's me," he said. He'd gotten a scar across the bridge of his nose in the years since she'd seen him last, and there was a smattering of gray in his dark brown curls, but as he said, for sure and certain, it was him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, "And how is it you don't seem at all surprised to see me?"

"In all honesty, if I were surprised every time one of you big folk did something I didn't expect, I'd spend me whole life with me eyebrows in the air like a bloody great idiot. I came here looking for the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep, and I find you here dressed as a soldier. Quite a step from barmaid to greycloak, and you have my sincere congratulations. Can you show me to your superior, lass?"

Adahni smiled a bit, "Actually," she said, "To find my superior, you'd have to be getting back on that road and riding a few days til you reach Neverwinter. If it's the Captain of Crossroad you're looking for, you're standing in front of her."

Cullygan's mouth dropped open and his eyebrows shot in the air. "Now, lass, that is worthy of my surprise." He looked to his left and right, blinked, and then back at her, "Well I'm glad me journey's been cut a bit, for it's quite urgent. I saw the company you sent out to me home village, and I'll have you know I appreciate the help. It's mostly the woods they set alight, but I'm sure some will have lost homes and crops before the morning's out. I have more of a... a personal favor to ask."

"A personal favor, eh?" she said, stroking her chin, "I'll have you know I walk squarely on this side of the law these days. Piracy is generally disfavored."

"The village elders are going to try to blame this little fiasco on bandits. Bandits this, bandits that, it's all the townsfolk will talk about. Crops get a fungus, it's bandits! Get the flu, bandits! I'm happy to let them think so, though, for what's at work is quite a bit more sinister."

"Sinister I'm used to," Adahni said.

"The Circle of Blades," Cullygan said, spitting out the name as though it tasted bad, "Me da's dying... well he was, he's dead now. I anchored the _Dance _off the coast a few days ago with a skeleton crew and instructions to meet me in Highcliff in a fortnight. I just... I just wanted to see the old man, thank him properly before he was gone, and what... what do I find waiting for me as a settle in by his death bed but hooded and cloaked assassins lighting fire to the woods surrounding the village. Me sister's a widow, and her with three little ones. We've gotten to safety, with most of the village, but... it seems a new assassin has earned his blade on this night."

"My greycloaks will handle the situation," Adahni said.

"No," the captain said, seizing her wrist in his small, dry hand, "I don't mean the village. I mean that there is a band of assassins making their way back to Luskan territory as we speak. It's a week's journey without mounts, and the Circle always travels on foot. I want to hunt them down, and make sure that none of them make it back to that forsaken city alive."

Adahni nodded slowly, "I will call my men."

"No!" Cullygan protested again, "Discretion is of the utmost importance. I don't want your men. I want you."

"What were you riding here looking for?" she asked, "Not knowing that the Captain of Crossroad would be a specter from your past?"

"You've a reputation, even to the wee folk," Cullygan said, "The Captain of Crossroads is a formidable woman, and she is wedded more to fixing the problems of the land that she is to the law. Will you help me, lass?"

"Aye, I'll help you," Adahni said, "But I would ask the aid of one other, one who knows the Circle of Blades much better than you or I."

They found him camped out in a clearing a little north of the keep. He had his wolf with him, and was brushing the burrs from her fur with what looked suspiciously like Adahni's hairbrush.

"Come to seek your humble tracker again, then?" he asked without looking up, "Fancy a roll in the heather, I see, couldn't be bothered to wait until I sought you out at your window?'

Cullygan cleared his throat audibly.

"Well I'd offer you the same thing, but my guess is you're underage," he said, "What can my lady's humble ranger do for you, Master Halfling."

"My name," Cullygan said, "Is Mackrem Cullygan, I am the captain of the Dance of the Damned."

In the dim light of the campfire, Adahni saw Bishop's face go pale. He dropped the hairbrush on the ground, and rose. Karnwyr gave a great sigh and rolled on her back, exposing her belly in a show of submission.

"Captain C-cullygan," Bishop stammered, "What... what could possibly bring you here?"

"Who's this?" Cullygan asked, "Another wharf rat from Luskan made good on Neverwinter soil?"

"You could say that," Adahni said.

Cullygan dismounted and strode up to the ranger. Though he only came to the man's chest, he reached up and grabbed handful of his collar, forcing him down to eye level. Adahni watched him study the ranger's face, and saw his expression soften. "You look familiar," he said, "You're Kyla Bishop's boy."

Bishop looked away, but nodded painfully.

"Whatever became of your pretty sister?" Cullygan asked, "Such a sweet..."

"She died," Adahni said, "A long, long time ago."

"Sorry to hear that, lad," he said, "But no time for mourning tonight, tonight is a night for revenge, and revenge served piping hot is quite a supper indeed!" Carefully, slowly, Cullygan explained what had happened, and his desire to track down and dispatch the band of assassins. A malicious grin slowly spread over Bishop's features as the plan was laid out, and he nodded in agreement.

"Well, Addie, I see you know how to play on a man's deepest desires," he said, "You'll have my bow. Assassins travel by foot, in bands of a dozen for this purpose. If they have an initiate with them, he'll slow them down. You'd be surprised how slaughtering a village for the first time... changes you."

"In saddle or on foot?" the pirate asked him.

"In saddle," Bishop replied, "They are travelling through populated lands. Blending into the shadows will do them no good. They will have to be blending in with the people. We will be looking for a group of a dozen, more men than women, if there are women at all. They've been known to dress as priests, as monks, as farmers..."

"And how are we to discern the difference?" Adahni asked.

"Best case scenario, they reveal themselves," Bishop said, "Worst case scenario, we slaughter a group of pious sticks-in-the-mud. Either way, the world's left a better place than it was this morning."

"There's the spirit!" Cullygan exclaimed, "I think I like you, lad! Almost as much as I like Addie here. If you had a bosom like hers, there might be competition."

Adahni told Kana a half-baked lie about checking on things in one of the villages at the outskirts of her realm. Her captain at arms, the long-suffering shieldmaiden of the East, was used to her scurrying off here and there, with or without a good reason to be gone. She got two horses from the groom, both a deep and dappled brown. In the thick of the forest, they would not be as noticeable as a gray or black. Bishop boosted her into her saddle, and he leapt into his own.

"They will have taken the high road," Bishop said, "It's windy and unpleasant travelling along the ridges this time of year. Merchants won't take it; their wagons would tip with a strong gust. Only those who are up to no good travel there."

"We'll be in good company, I see," Adahni observed darkly. She had exchanged the tunic bearing the great eye of Neverwinter for a leather jerkin layered over chainmail. It chafed her something awful, but one of the Nine riding along the ridges of the foothills of the Sword Mountains would be a sore thumb indeed. She puled her cowl over her head, as much to hide her face as the block the wind, and Bishop did the same.

"A ruddy great night for a bloodbath," Cullygan said, cackling slightly, "A ruddy great night indeed!"


	75. Night on the Long Barrow

They road hard, spurring their horses up the narrow track up to the highest ridge of the foothills. The High Road was old, made by the dwarves who had hewn down the great thick forests that had once covered the ridge to fuel their furnaces, and paved with cobblestones worn smooth by the winds that shrieked along its length from the western pass through the Sword Mountains past Neverwinter and back into Luskan territory. It had once been the fastest way to cut across moor and mountain, but as the days grew darker, its remoteness and elevation made it attractive to bandits and highwaymen. It had last seen widespread use during the war between Luskan and Neverwinter, its bleak broadness accommodating entire battalions of soldiers, marching ten or more abreast from the outer territories of Neverwinter into Luskan lands. Now the bald ridge stood desolate, running parallel with its brother ridges dark with forests.

Adahni had never traveled the high road. The Elves of the Mere had a name for it, translated roughly into the Long Barrow for the way the ridge on which it was situated resembled a cairn built over the bodies of the dead. Whatever its name, it was a wicked place, and a sense of foreboding grew in her heart as she and her two companions lead their mounts up the long series of hairpin turns that lead them to the road.

At its height, Adahni could see down over her keep. To the east was another, higher ridge, its red cliffs looking down at them balefully amid rushing waterfalls. To the west was a lower one, and a cliff on which she had once lain with Jem, what seemed like a lifetime ago though it was barely a season.

"If we ride hard we will overtake them," Bishop said, "If you think your… erm… mighty steed can take it." He looked down at Mackrem's little Shetland pony with a slightly amused smile on his face.

"You'd be surprised," the captain replied, "You'd be very surprised what we wee things can do when we put our minds to it."

Bishop grunted his acknowledgement and dug his heels into his mount's flanks. Adahni did the same thing. The wind whipped like the current of a mighty river to the left and to the right, and Addie pulled her hood fast around her. It was cleansing in a way, the cold mountain air blasting into her face, blowing her cowl and hair straight back behind her. She concentrated, as she had learned to do, and brought forth light from her hands, the trick of the aasimar that Neeshka had taught her so long ago. Mackrem stayed behind them, but not far, and his shaggy mount seemed keen on keeping up with her larger compatriots.

Mackrem saw them first, his Halfling eyes keen in the darkness. "Hold!" he cried. Bishop and Adahni whirled their horses, shedding momentum and following up back as the little captain brought his pony to a stop. "There, in the distance. Ten men, cloaked and cowled, on foot." Adahni strained her eyes, and made out their figures. They had stopped, probably at the sound of their hoofbeats, and were also peering into the darkness.

"We aren't going to out-stealth them," Bishop said, "We'll have to do this from the saddle." He took his bow from his back and tested the tension of the string. Adahni unsheathed her sword. The rapier that Casavir had gotten her had served her well, but as she grew more and more accustomed to fighting, she found that she preferred a broader blade. The new strength in her arms allowed her to carry a longsword that looked dreadfully out of place in the hands of such a small woman, but especially as she looked forward into the darkness, she was glad that she had it. Mackrem had drawn his own weapon. His cutlass hung by his side, but what he produced from his belt was a nasty looking sickle, the blade sparkling keenly in the aasimar's light.

"Addie, you go in first. Take a couple of their heads off," Mackrem said, "Bishop will pick them off from behind, and I'll go and take out the legs of any as try to run."

"Wait," Adahni said, "How do we know it's them?"

"It's them," Bishop said, "I would know those cloaks anywhere."

"I thought you said they'd be disguised," she said.

"We got lucky," Bishop said, "If we hadn't caught up with them tonight, they would be at an inn in one of the border villages and this would be a lot messier."

"All right," Adahni said, and clucked to her horse. She summoned forth her light and rose in her stirrups. They could see her now, and her only chance was to just be the better fighter, and use everything she had to her adventure. She let loose a high-pitched war cry and followed it up with a burst of flame. Predictably, two of the assassins turned and ran, one of them plunging down the steep hillside to the side of the road, the other sprinting in the other direction. This distracted the others sufficiently that none drew steel while she bore down upon them, and her blade found its target. She cleaved the head clean off one of them, and buried it in the neck of a second. She rode past and circled, hearing an arrow whiz past her ear, and feeling another bounce off of her chainmail. When she turned to make another pass , she saw that they had drawn bows and were loosing arrow after arrow. She made quite a splendid target, glowing like a lamp in the dark. She shut her eyes, and the light she had ignited went out. She could see well enough, especially as the moon came out from the clouds. In the pale light, she saw that three of Bishop's arrows had found their homes. She spurred her horse forward and came around. Two of the assassins took off running down the hill off of the high road, but the last one stood his ground. As she came to him, he threw something at her, a small knife, which buried itself in her shoulder, just breaking through her chain mail and nicking the skin underneath. She laughed as she cut him down.

Bishop dismounted and examined the bodies. He twisted a ring off one of them and showed it to her, "The insignia of the Circle of Blades," he said, "These were our quarry."

"Three lie dead at the bottom of those cliffs over there," Mackrem said, pointing over the edge of the road, "The fourth will be running back to Luskan to tell his friends."

"We'd best hunt him down and make sure he knows with whom he is dealing," Adahni said. The small cut in her shoulder was uncommonly painful, though it didn't even seem to be bleeding. She rubbed it and tried to shrug out the discomfort, but only succeeded in making it worse.

They rode further down, where they found the escapee, huddled and shivering under his cloak. He rocked back and forth. Adahni dismounted.

"On your feet, assassin," she said, touching her blade to his neck. He got up, slowly and reluctantly, pushing his hood off his head. He was very young, even younger than Bishop had been, with a pale complexion and long eyelashes that made him look babyish and innocent.

"What's your name, lad?"

He held his tongue, staring at him through large, scared brown eyes.

"Your masters are all dead, none of them will whip you if you speak," Adahni said.

"If you're going to kill me, for fuck's sake do it quickly," the assassin said in the raspy voice of a boy who has only recently become a man.

"We're not going to kill you," Mackrem said, "That would spoil the fun."

"We are trained to withstand torture," the boy said, though his expression bespoke palpable fear.

"We're not here to get information from you, I doubt the Circle of Blades hierarchy would tell you anything worth knowing anyway," Bishop said, pushing his hood off his face.

"You!" the boy exclaimed, his voice cracking.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" the ranger asked, warily.

"You're the traitor, Kyrwan Bishop," the boy said, "I'd know that face anywhere. Perhaps you don't remember me, I was only a boy sweeping the floor when you were being trained." The boy growled, "Eshuar is my name if you still care to hear it. But you… you put your blade in the backs of the men who were supposed to be your brothers!" he spat on the ground for emphasis.

"I killed some people who were pissing me off," Bishop said, "Six of one, half a dozen of another."

Adahni did not question the veracity of this statement, but simply added it to the mental list of things she knew about the man who was at once her most familiar and most mysterious companion. He had to have left the Circle at some point, and it would take a great effort to struggle loose of their grasp. Assassins left the Circle of Blades one way: in a casket. A large scale betrayal might do the trick too.

"You know, my lady," Eshuar said, turning his gaze to Adahni, "The price on your head is a king's ransom."

She wound him and hit him as hard as she could with the back of her gloved hand. He whimpered and spat blood. "If you're trying to get me to turn him in, it is an exercise in futility," she said, "Now, child, this is what you are going to do. You are going to run along back to Luskan with your tail between your legs. You are going to tell them what happened to your company. You are going to tell them that these villages are under the protection of the Captain of Crossroad Keep, and that her arm is strong, her memory is long, and the word forgiveness is not in her vocabulary."

Eshuar shook his head, "The Captain of Crossroad Keep is a fool then," he said, "To keep company with such a man." He backed up, away from them, "He is a traitor of the worst kind. He has already betrayed one master, and someday, he will betray you too!"

"And on that day, my retribution will be swift and terrible as that which you just saw," Adahni said, "But that day is not today. Now run along, and don't be too proud of having slaughtered Halflings."

Eshuar spat again, but turned and ran as though a pack of orcs was at his heels.

"Is it true?" Mackrem asked.

"It is," Bishop said, "I was never initiated. I killed them all."

"Aye, I believe it," the halfling said.

"Come on," Adahni said, "Give me a boost. We make for the Keep. It's damn cold and I never did get that drink I wanted." _And I want someone to look at my shoulder. Thing barely scratched me, there is absolutely no reason it should hurt this badly. _

They rode back along the high road. Somehow, the wind that had been in their faces going the other way was still in their faces coming back. She hunkered down near the neck of her mount, trying to get out of the wind. Their mounts were barely tired, and eager to get into a warm stable and have something to munch on, and galloped along the cobblestones at top speed. At first Adahni didn't notice it in the dark, but as the moon came and went behind the clouds, she noticed that her peripheral vision had started to fade. _I must be tired, _she thought, _All that reading by candlelight, all that tiny gnomish handwriting… _Her vision went fuzzy, and her hands went numb, and before she knew it, she was on her back on the cobblestones. _Well that's odd, _she thought, _I didn't even hit my head. _She looked around, and picked herself up, waving to her companions to show she was all right. Her mount had taken off without her. _Well this will be a long walk home. Maybe… maybe there's a shortcut._

Riding behind her, Bishop saw her go limp in her saddle. Before he could reach her, she had tumbled off of her mount. Before he could dismount and call for Mackrem to stop, she had picked herself up and, disoriented, walked straight off the cliff on the edge of the Long Barrow. Before he had struggled in the dark to get to the bottom, she was gone.

* * *

She awoke in a large bed in a large room. What she noticed first was how warm it was. Even with the fire roaring in her chamber at the Keep, the wind would come through the chinks in the windows that the stonemasons still had not plugged. Where she was now, there was no dueling between the winter outside and the fire within. It was more like the heat of summer, where it was warm all around. Her vision was still a little fuzzy, and when she tried to move, her limbs felt leaden. She slowly pulled back the cover to see that the wound on her shoulder was larger, and bandaged.

"Where…" she tried to speak but found that she couldn't. She sat up, and saw that she was in a chamber more luxurious than any she had seen, even in Castle Never. The bed she was in was ornate, made of wood carved into intricate designs of a type she had never laid eyes on. The covers were thin, and made of silk stuffed with… well it wasn't goose-down, but it was soft and warm. The sun shone in large windows made of flawless glass.

The doorknob on the door facing her bed began to turn. She reached for her weapon, but of course she didn't have it on her. The man who came through was the tallest she had seen, closer to seven than six feet tall, and dressed in an odd outfit, a white robe which fell to the floor. He was beautiful. Not handsome, not inspiring desire, but only admiration. His skin was dark brown and glowed as though lit from within. His face was ageless and wise, like that of a statue, and his eyes were nearly yellow, startlingly pale against his dark complexion. At once, Adahni knew that she was not in any danger. Something about his presence made her feel safe and happy and protected, more so than she had ever felt in her entire life.

He walked up to her bedside and felt her forehead with one enormous hand, "So you're awake, my dear," he said, "I was beginning to fear the worst."

She nodded, still unable to speak.

"Your speech will return with your strength. Until then there is no sense in tiring yourself," he said, "Here, you should come eat something, it will speed your recovery."

Adahni swung wriggled out from under the covers. She was dressed differently, she saw, in a robe not unlike the one the man was wearing. Before her feet hit the floor, he had walked over and scooped her up, carrying her against his broad chest like a baby. She tried to protest, but decided that it wasn't too bad being carried, and as long as none of her companions were around to see and make fun of her, what was the harm?

He carried her out of the room into a courtyard where the sun shone brightly down and a large and well tended garden burst with flowers of every hue. _Wait a second, _she thought, _It was cold… it was autumn. The leaves were nearly all down…why are the roses blooming? _He set her down in a chair before a large plate of summer fruits, peaches and berries, and… _What in the hells is going on here? _She had hungrily, and felt a rush of energy as she swallowed the sweet flesh and licked the juices shamelessly from her fingers. Her… captor? Savior? Looked down at her with a smile on his face.

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice returning as she swallowed a strawberry.

"Very good!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together in delight, "You can talk!"

"Yes," she said, "What a comfort. Where am I?"

"You are in my home. Our home," he said, grinning, "And you have recovered! How wonderful!"

She was made uneasy by the fact that she was not uneasy. _I should be much, much more scared right now, _she thought, _I'm wounded, I'm in the company of a giant man that I have never met in my life, in a place where there are strawberries in the middle of autumn, and yet somehow I feel as though everything is right as rain…_

"But… it was autumn, nearly winter, when I left… how… how is this happening?"

"It's summer here."

"Where is here?" she asked, growing a little frustrated with his evasive answers.

He sighed, "I see you are more inquisitive than I anticipated, and less innocent. This is the Ethereal Plane. This place is fashioned in a manner that pleases me, though some would call it only an illusion. Does it please you as well?"

"Well, yes," Adahni said, "But… how did I get here?"

"You were dying," he said, "And so I took you here, where you would be safe, where I could protect you."

"Why?" she asked, "Who are you? What interest do you have in me not dying?"

"Now don't be silly," he said, putting his hand on her head. He could have held her head in one hand like a child cupping a rubber ball, "What kind of father would I be if I didn't protect my only daughter?"


	76. Of Angels and Halflings

"You!" she exclaimed, "You're…"

"I am Farishta," he said.

All in an instant, questions she had had since she was a child started bubbling to the fore. She sat for a moment, thinking on how to begin.

"Were you looking for me?" she asked.

"I think I was," Farishta said, "Moving from plane to plane is difficult for one such as myself. When I am on your plane, I am easily disoriented. I forget what I am after, I am a much more impulsive creature than I am here. So, yes, I think I was looking for you."

"My uncle told me that when my mother returned, she didn't know where she'd been," Adahni said.

"She is of the primal plane," he said, "Moving between is especially difficult for mortals. We are… out of place on each others' planes."

"Why am I not a babbling idiot right now, then?" she asked.

"You have the blood of both planes," he said, "You may not travel of your own accord, but you are especially resilient like many of your kind."

She nodded, satisfied with the explanation. Half of her wanted to throw herself into his lap, the other half wanted to beat him to a pulp for abandoning her.

"Why now?" she asked.

"You were dying."

"This is not the first time I have lain dying," she said. Her tone was not accusatory, though she still felt angry, "When I was a year old, I lay in my dead mother's arms for most of a day before I was rescued by the man I called father."

"Yes, your mother," Farishta said, cupping his chin in his hands and staring at the table, "Esmerelle." He rolled the 'r' out and extended the name, reluctant to let it leave his mouth, "Esmerelle Maverley." She waited for him to finish chewing on it, impatiently tapping her bare foot against the comfortably warm flagstone, "She was quite an extraordinary creature."

He was silent a moment, Adahni growing ever more frustrated.

"She was a very powerful woman, your mother," Farishta said, "I don't think any in her life truly understood what she was capable of. In that battle, the one that she was injured in, I don't think anyone saw what had happened… it was not enemy arrows that pierced her, but she was engulfed in flames of her own making. She… she lost control of it."

_I don't like how much Qara and my mother have in common, _Adahni thought, her mind's eye falling on the flame-haired sorceress setting the thatched roof of the Sunken Flagon alight.

"Some had called me to your plane," Farishta said, "A great… disturbance, one so great it stood to rip through the very substance of the world."

"This would have been two years before the King of Shadows," Adahni said.

"The King of Shadows," the great angel said, looking at her quizzically through the same topaz eyes she stared back at him with, "Yes, I suppose that could be a name for him. One of the mortal races, twisted and tormented until nothing remained of his humanity. He grew in power little by little. That day, your mother had met with one of his legion, swarms of the undead from that… that smelly place you have…"

"The Mere?"

"Merdelain," Farishta said, nodding. His expressions were slow and almost overblown, and he seemed very satisfied that he had been able to remember this particular place-name, "Swarms of them, bloated corpses lurching about as though vomited up by the swamp itself… I usually find everything on your plane fascinating, but this… this I found foul and disturbing. Your mothers companions scattered, frightened off, but your mother summoned flames from her hands and laid them low, the gases trapped in their dead bodies igniting and the swamp-slime evaporating in the air. But then… she could not stop it. She went up, her hair, her clothes, ignited."

"You saved her."

"She was an extraordinary creature," Farishta said, "I had a sense, a premonition I suppose your kind would call it… that she and I were meant to have met. I brought her here."

"You knocked her up."

"But don't you understand, my own, I _had _to."

"What do you mean you had to?" Adahni asked, suspicious.

"You are the _kalach-cha,_" he said, "Like the other plane-dwellers have whispered since time immemorial, when the King of Shadows arises again, the _kalach-cha _must strike him down, for good this time. I had no choice."

"So what you are telling me is we are all but pawns on the chessboard?" Adahni asked, "We have had no control over our actions? So are you telling me that you had to save her one day only to let her die after giving life to me? That she was nothing but a vessel, that _I _am nothing but a vessel?"

"Don't say that, my own," Farishta chided her in a much sweeter way than Daeghun ever had, "True, the world is indeed a chessboard, but don't make the mistake of thinking that all pieces who dwell there are pawns."

"And everything else," Adahni said, "Everything that happened to me, every horrid thing that happened to me since, was that also part of the plan?"

Farishta looked at her, and suddenly his features which had seemed ageless as those of a marble statue looked old and tired, the topaz eyes lost some of their light, "There is more than one way to reach checkmate," he said, "It seems you have taken a hard road."

She shook her head, "I refuse to believe that," she said, "There can't be a plan. You don't understand, if it's random, if it all just happened, that means it's nobody's fault. But if there were a plan, it would mean all of this made sense to someone. It would mean that the gods, if they are there, they must _hate _us."

"The gods are not my concern," Farishta said, "Whether they hate you or not is not a judgment I am prepared to make. You are who you have become, my daughter, for a reason. The finest tempered steel must be forged in the hottest of fires, and I am as sorry as I can be for the pain that that has caused you. Take comfort in the task at hand."

"To have been forged in fires such as I have, to nearly be laid low by an assassin's poison," she muttered, "Was that supposed to happen as well?"

"Perhaps," Farishta said, "Perhaps you are here for a reason."

She looked long and hard at the angel, his dark skin so like her own, the white robe covering him. He was at once familiar and grotesque. Part of her longed to throw herself into his arms as she never had with anybody in her life, and let him comfort her. But… she was twenty-four – nearly twenty-five – years old, and she had never called him father. It was not Farishta who had claimed her when she lay, an infant with a jagged piece of githyanki sword lodged in her sternum. It was not Farishta who had nursed her back to health. It was not Farishta who had taken her in as a ragged young woman fleeing an unhappy marriage, nor guided her gently along her path. The role had been filled by many people, young and old, male and female, but it had never been filled by him.

"I need to go back," she said.

"I know you do, my daughter."

"Please send me back."

"Go out back into the garden," he said, "Through the arbor. Do not turn around once you have gone, just keep on walking. Be brave, my child, it is a cold and relentless world you return to."

"It's the only world I've got," she said.

He nodded, and rose. "You have done well. You are an extraordinary creature, like your mother."

_No thanks to you, asshole, _she thought, but the idea escaped her before it reached her mouth. She threw her arms around his waist (they would not reach his shoulders) and allowed him to hold her for a long moment in his embrace. Then she turned and walked out into the garden. There was a narrow path, paved with flagstones that wound between lilacs and lavender and all sorts of sweet-smelling and colorful plants she did not recognize. It lead through an arbor covered with climbing roses. She walked down the path. As she passed under the arbor, she felt the world go cold around her. She kept walking, and it was as though the grass and stones beneath her feet were boiling and evaporating around her. She shut her eyes and kept walking as a frigid wind began to surround her , as though she were at the center of a whirlwind. Her bare feet burned with cold for a moment, and then she heard a clank as the steel toe of her boot hit stone. She opened her eyes.

She was at the bottom of a cliff. High above she could see the pale moon, nearly full, come out from behind dark billowing clouds.

"God gods, Addie!" she heard a voice, familiar but not familiar, call.

_Addie, _she thought, _I think that was my name…_

She turned, a little dazed. A young man wearing a cloak and leather armor was scrambling down the rocks towards her, a great bow bouncing on his back as he made his way.

_The High Road, this is the High Road, but who's he, and why am I so happy to see him? _she thought. She was even more confused as he seized her around the shoulders and kissed her full on the mouth. _Well this is all right, I suppose, _she thought, _but…_

It all came flooding back to her in an instant, just as the angel had promised her it would. She turned in the young man – _Bishop's _– arms, and seemed to see in the distance a ghost of a shadow of an arbor and a garden path behind it.

"I don't know how in the hells you survived that fall," he said, "What happened?"

"That knife," she said, "It must have had something on it, it made me disoriented."

"But how…"

He looked up at the cliffs above. She had wandered off the lip of the cliff, and would have had to fall a good forty feet on to some rocks, and then rolled down a steep hillside, in order to land where she had.

"Angel on my shoulder," Adahni said.

"Not a scratch on you," he said, "Enough to make a man religious."

"Really?"

"Not quite. Come on. Cullygan's waiting up with the horses, I'm sure he's expecting me to be carrying up your corpse any minute now. There's a path up about thirty yards down through the woods."

They scrambled in silence up the narrow, winding path, until they reached the High Road, where Cullygan was, indeed, waiting with the mounts.

"How in the hells…" the little Halfling breathed as they approached. He scurried up to her and with impressive strength seized her hand and drew her down to his level. "Not a bruise, not a scratch…"

"Some things just happen," she said, hoping he would ask no more questions.

"Aye, for sure and certain," he said, "We ride for Crossroad, then?"

"As fast as these beasts will carry us," she said, "C'mon, Bishop, give me a boost."

He did so, and she dug her heels into her mount's flank, eager to be away from this evil place with the winds shrieking and the steep cliffs looming on either side. As they lead their mounts back down the hairpin path to the main road, the sun was coming up on the eastern horizon. It was quite decidedly up by the time they had returned to the courtyard at Crossroad Keep, where a small encampment of little folk were awaiting them. True to the style of their people, they had dug a firepit right in the middle of the grass of the courtyard and were roasting a pig – a pig that was larger than two of them put together, on a spit. Another carcass lay close by, and one of them was busily butchering it, as though nothing had happened and this was just a perfectly fine thing to be doing before midday after his home had been burned down.

"Mackrem!" a curly-haired middle-aged halfling woman cried as she saw them approach, "He lives!"

Two Halfling Children, no taller than Adahni's shins, went running up to him and tugged him from his mount. Chuckling, he put his arms around them, "Yes, Thommie, yes, Effie, I told you I'd be back."

"I believed you, Uncle Mack!" the smaller of the two, whose name appeared to be Effie, said in a shrill little voice.

"I did too, I did too!" the other, a boy from the sound of him, said.

"How many are here, Nic?" he asked the woman who had cried out to him, "How many?"

"You were the last one to be accounted for," she said, smiling, "Would you like some bacon?"

"Not now, Nic," Mackrem said in exasperation, "There are some problems that bacon won't solve…"

"Well I'm not interested in those problems, am I," she said.

"The men responsible are dead," Adahni said, "And their leader has been informed that you are under my protection. "

The woman stopped, and stared, as though she had seen Addie for the first time, "My lady!" she said, hurriedly dropping a clumsy curtsy. The two little children stared up at her with large blue eyes.

"No reason for all that," she said, a little embarrassed.

"Me name's Nic – Anica Sibley," she said, "I'm his sister. I guess I'm the mayor… this year anyway, we tend to take turns… I thank you kindly for your help and your hospitality... I just don't know… I don't know how long we'll have to impose on you like this…"

"You're roasting a pig on my front lawn."

"Well how better to thank our hosts than with some fresh roasted pork?" Nic exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips, "My gods, you look peaked. I'm sure you're mother's worried sick you haven't been eating…"

"I don't…"

"Don't be ridiculous," Nic said, "Being among you big folk's made Mackrem into a right silly thing, all concerned about things that oughtn't concern him… Sit down and have some food. Things will look better once you've filled your stomach."

Adahni sat, obligingly, and the ranger, who had remained oddly silent through the whole exchange, sat down beside here.

"There's a good girl!" the Halfling woman said, "Everything will look much brighter after some nice pork and taters roasted in the ashes. Now, while we're waiting, I have something else for you."

"Doesn't it bother you in the least that your village…"

"_After _breakfast," Nic said, "The proper time to worry about that is _after _ breakfast. Or perhaps after second breakfast. Now stay still. You're looking for soldiers, ain't you?"

"Yes, ma'am, but…"

"Milo!" Nic cried out so loudly Adahni could hardly believe that the noise had come from the womans little lungs, "Get Lily and bring your slingers over here!"

A dozen or so Halflings emerged from the inn. Grubby and sooty they were, probably in their early twenties or whatever the Halfling equivalent of that was. They were also, evidently, completely drunk. That Adahni could understand.

"With all due respect…"

"No, Addie, I think you'll be wanting to see what they can do before you refuse their help," Mackrem said, "Go on…"

Their leader –Milo if Nic was to be believed – produced a sling made of finely braided hemp rope.

"Call your shot!" Nic yelled.

"Pig's eye," Milo said. He produced a bullet from a pouch by his side and started whirling the sling faster than even Adahni's aasimar eyes could see. He let it go, and she heard it whistle through the air and strike the roasting pig (which was being turned on the spit, mind you) right through the eye. If that were not enough, it went straight through and out the back of the skull and into the fire, spraying uncooked pig's brains on the chef, who looked only mildly put out.

"Impressive, Master…"

"Milo Delving, ma'am," the slinger slurred, "I musht… compliment you on your fine fine ale…." With a soft thump, he fell over a passed out on the grass.

"Perhaps," Bishop said, "They have a point. They're just happy to still be alive. You have land that needs farmers, they have farmers that need land and protection. Winter won't come for another month or so… time enough to make them shelter…"

"Why young Master Bishop, are you actually worried about them?"

"I'm worried about anyone who can be that deadly accurate with such a primitive weapon at seven o'clock in the morning while nearly falling-down drunk," he said, "We need them, Addie."

She sighed, and looked around at her courtyard.

"Let's worry about it after breakfast."


	77. Another Harvest Fair

The halflings, those industrial little creatures, immediately set about making Crossroad Keep their new home. Stone cottages that had been one-story hovels for big folk became two-story respectable homes in the hands of halfling carpenters. The barley and wheat that had been sown in spring with the anticipation of more hands come harvest time were brought in timely, and there was constant stream in and out of the keep as the new tenants made trip after trip back to their old vegetable gardens, digging up the plants that remained,, piling them roots and all into wheelbarrows and donkey-drawn carts to be transplanted them in the good dark earth of the Keep. Under the skillful hands of halfling gardeners, squash and tomato vines that would have died during the trip fluorished, and not too long afterward, Adahni found herself being presented with pumpkins the size of Khelgar and eggplants that took two halfling farmers to carry. The shelves in the stores beneath Crossroad Keep grew heavy with food for the coming winter. Despite her years in cities, Adahni had never really lost the sense that country folk have of dread at the lean times coming quelled by the sight of great stores of food.

On the day of the equinox, one year to the day from when she had started her journey, stood watching laborers, man and dwarf, halfling and elf, hang streamers from the windows in the courtyard and roll out the last kegs of last year's ale. It was the harvest fair all over again, she thought, but this year none would have to fight to prove their worth. All who had come with her to the keep had done so many times over. Her companions had been returning for around a week, Grobnar with fantastical stories of tracking the Wendersnaven over hill and dale, moor and moss, until he claimed that a vision had come to him that the Wendersnaven were not interested in this fight, but that he should keep an eye out for them. Elanee returned with a pledge of loyalty from the chief of the Lizardmen, and Khelgar with two of his burly cousins, swearing the fealty of Clan Ironfist. They had all had quite a few drinks to celebrate being reunited, and admired the progress that had been made on the keep.

The pipers started playing not long after dawn, and Addie gave thanks that she had gone to bed early the night before. Neeshka had decided she was through with waiting for her last name, and Cormick had agreed that they would be wed in the morning of the Harvest Fair, thereby giving everyone involved an extra reason to get blind drunk and dance. Adahni picked up her mandolin from under her bed for the first time in what seemed like ages. It had gone badly out of tune during her period of neglect, and she struggled to tighten the strings to their proper places. Without the bar to play in, it was easy to forget the poor instrument.

Satisfied with the tuning, she sat on the edge of her bed and started playing a familiar jig, her fingers unaccustomed to the strings.

"You're out of practice, lass."

She looked up, startled. The masons had removed the scaffolding from under her window at her behest, and she'd had no surprise visits since then. Standing in the doorway, though, was the slight frame of her father.

"Daeghun," she said with half a smile, "I had hoped you'd be by one of these days."

"Indeed," he replied. He crossed the room and sat down at her desk chair, "I remember how I used to yearn for the day when you'd get tired of trying to play that damned thing and stop making all that racket."

Adahni giggled, a sudden memory of herself as a small child, struggling to pluck out a tune on the mandolin that Rheta Starling had given her after having confiscated it from Lorne to spare herself the noise. It had never occurred to her that it had bothered Daeghun as much as it had Rhetta, but that he had stayed silent and waited for her to get over the novelty.

"Nineteen years and I haven't gotten tired of it," she said, smiling.

"Twenty," Daeghun said, "You forgot your own birthday again, didn't you."

"No, no," she said, sighing, "I was hoping everyone else had. I don't feel twenty-five."

"And I don't feel two hundred and seventy-one," Daeghun replied, looking at his daughter with something in his eyes – was it sorrow? She knew in the back of her head one sad fact: even if she survived all the battles in the world, he would still live to see the child he had raised grow old and die. Even Duncan, while possessing half the longevity of his elfin mother, would grow wrinkled and decrepit and go doddering into his grave, all before Daeghun got his first gray hair. Perhaps, Adahni thought, that was why his mother had abandoned him, not wanting to watch her son wither away before her eyes.

"I have to admit, though," he said, "You have gotten rather good at that."

She smiled, "High praise," she said, "So, tell me why you've come now. You didn't see fit to assure me of your safety after Westharbor fell – Bevil told me you'd survived."

Daeghun gave her an odd look, as though it would never have crossed his mind that she cared about his wellbeing. "I have been tracking the druids of the Mere for some time now," he said, "Trying to get to the bottom of this blight upon the land."

"Hate to break it to you, but the Mere's been a godsforsaken Wasteland for longer than I've been alive."

"You know as well as I that the evil that has come to haunt this land has done doubly so for the Mere."

She nodded, "Yes, yes, I heard tell that the King of Shadows himself lies within the Claimed Lands."

Daeghun nodded, "I imagined as much. The Druids of the Mere are thus our best source of knowledge on how to penetrate a land so formidably defended. Come, walk with me. I have discovered something, and I must tell you at once."

They strolled out into the great hall, and down the hill to where Elanee was seated crosslegged, whittling a sapling into a quarterstaff and carving runes up and down its length. She looked up as they passed. Daeghun paused.

"_Lle ier Elanee ned Mere Echor, uma?_" he said, slipping into the wood-elf dialect that he had spoken growing up along the edge of the Mere.

"_Amin Elanee,_" she replied, "I am Elanee, of the Circle of the Mere."

"No need to translate for my benefit," Adahni said, "_Heniach lle mae._"

"Just who I was looking for," Daeghun said.

"Is that so," Adahni said, raising her eyebrows.

"It does concern you both. As I hounded the trail of the Dark Hunter and his minions, I came across something I thought lost. The druids of our lands, the Circle of the Mere, still _live._"

"That's impossible," Elanee replied, "You're mistaken. If they were alive, I would know."

"I can only venture to the swamp for brief periods of time – the reeds and waters feast on the living now. I followed the druids, and they had a ritual I think sustained them, even in the Claimed Lands.

"The Circle! They must have found a way to restore part of the Mere, keep it from the influence of the shadows. If so... we need to find them. They can tell us more about what is happening in the Mere than anyone... and if we can get them to ally with us, we may even be able to stop what the King of Shadows is doing to the land itself."

"Very well," Adahni said, nodding slowly, "We can go looking for them on the morrow, but has it occurred to you that they may not want to be found?"

"It's not their choice to make, not anymore," Elanee said, her expression growing determined, "If they live, we need to know why, and we need to know what is happening in Merdelain."

"Sooner is better than later," Daeghun observed, "Tomorrow will do."

"Thank you for this information," Adahni said, "Will you stay for the festivities?"

"No, I will not," he replied, "I have much to do in defense of the Sword Coast. I bid you good morrow."

"Strange man, that," Elanee remarked, "Always thought so."

"You know him?" Adahni asked, watching her fathers back as he strode out of the keep.

"Vaguely," Elanee replied, "The rangers who lived at the edge of the swamp, especially the elves, would run across us every so often. Most of them stayed well enough away, but Daeghun was always a curious little thing..."

"Little thing?" Adahni asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Well not anymore," Elanee said, laughing, "I suppose he's all grown now..."

"So, wait, you're _older _than Daeghun?"

"Of course I am!" the druid laughed, "By fifty years or more. Poor creature's let the worry line his face so, is all."

Adahni chuckled, "I would imagine so."

"The benefit of a day for rest and celebration is not lost on me as it is on him," Elanee said, "Come, the day is about to begin and you look like a wreck. I can't imagine our dear Neeshka would appreciate your presence at her wedding look as though you've just come from wrestling a band of orcs."

* * *

Back in her chamber, Adahni slid a new silk gown over her head. She had mended the dress she'd worn to Casavir's wedding, but it reminded her painfully of Jem, and this new dress was a lovely gold color, not to mention being finer and more comfortable. Her hair was no longer long enough to braid and pin to her head, so she left it down where it fell just passed her shoulders. She hung a heavy copper necklace around her neck, and adorned her ears with matching baubles, and painted her eyes in black and gold. In the mirror, she looked less and less like a farm girl from Westharbor or a doxy from Lusken, and more like a fine lady of Neverwinter.

"Addie!" she heard the ranger call from the doorway. She turned to see him, his usual self but more finely dressed. He had actually paused in the doorway, as was polite, instead of walking right in like he owned the place.

"Come on," he said, "It's nearly midday."

They walked side by side down the hill to the chapel in the courtyard, laughing and bullshitting as they always did. Evidently, the only invitations that had been sent were sent to those who did not dwell at the keep. Cormick had arrived with his buddies from the Watch. To Adahni's surprise, she learned that he had resigned his commission and intended to take up residence full time at the keep. Of course, she would offer him a job. The Greycloaks did not discipline themselves, after all. Vania had arrived, too. There appeared to be some truth to the adage, and absence did make the heart grow fonder, for since she had returned, she and Casavir scarcely spent more than an hour apart at a time.

The chapel was a small space, nothing like that large sanctuary of the Temple of Tyr where Casavir and Vania had been wed, but the windows had been fitted with new stained glass and the autumn sun shone in casting shadows of blue and yellow and green on the walls. Except for a few wan flowers scattered in the aisles, the only decorations were the fine clothes of those attending and the matching broad grins on the faces of bride and groom. Neeshka's red hair had grown out over the year and it was braided with gold ribbon and looped around her head like a crown. The Marshall wore his dress uniform from the Watch, though he would likely have to give it up and take on the more somber colors of a Greycloak. And there, in the circle of friends, a grizzled old sea captain pronounced the greatest thief in Neverwinter the wife of a watchman.

Even the ranger cheered loudly as the two newlyweds ran down the aisle out into the courtyard, where all the trappings of the fair were already set up. Most of the band was already playing to the crowd that had not been able to fit in the chapel, and the halflings of the village were dancing their cheerful jigs and reels. She, of course, went right to the kegs, where Bevil was standing.

"Are you nervous too?" she asked him. He nodded, looking grimly about.

"I remember what happened last year at this time," he said, "I know this place is well defended and the guard would raise an alarm, and yet..."

"The prickle goes up the back of your neck," Adahni agreed, "Still, we can put on a merry face, for Cormick at least."

"I hope he makes her happy," Bevil said. Clearly, he had not been able to forget what a rotten little bastard Cormick had been growing up, as Addie had, "She seems like a nice girl, tail and all."

Adahni nodded, "She's got her charms. If he doesn't treat her right I'll cut his balls off and hang them around his neck."

"Sad thing is, I believe you would do just that," Bevil replied, smirking a little. He paused. "Listen, I know it's been two years, since you returned to Westharbor and all that."

"It has," she replied. _Has it really only been two years? It seems like a lifetime._

"I just wanted to tell you that I understand."

"You do?"

"Your companion, the one who came with you to Westharbor at Midwinter," he said, gesturing with his head to where Bishop was having a laugh with a couple of the Watchmen, probably over a filthy joke or two, "I was chatting with him awhile ago, and he told me..."

"What did he tell you?" Adahni asked. She was surprised that she wasn't angry.

"That he knew you, and Dayven too. How Dayven'd gotten into Cyric's Madness, how he'd sold you to save his own hide. Then how you killed that diplomat's husband and avenged your friend's death..."

Adahni looked at the ground.

"I mean, I can't say I know how it feels," Bevil said, "But you didn't lose yourself."

"Not forever," Adahni said, "I remembered who I was, at the end."

"He admires you," Bevil said, "Bishop does. I could tell by the way he talked about you. I do too, you know. When you were gone, those seven years, Amie and I would wonder out loud where you were. Every answer we came up with was something great. Slaying dragons. Becoming the chief bard in the court of Lord Nasher. When the war started, we decided you'd turned mercenary."

"Amie," Adahni repeated their dead friend's name, as though doing so would summon her spirit, "She was the best of us, wasn't she."

"At that fair," Bevil said, saying the words quickly as though he were forcing himself to get it out before he changed his mind, "Last year. I was going to ask her to marry me."

Adahni looked at him in astonishment, but was not really all that astonished.

"I'd just been fumbling in my pocket for the ring to sow her, when the alarm was raised," he said, his voice thick with sorrow, "It's not fair..."

"It's not," Adahni said, putting her arm around his waist, knowing well that he would much rather be crying in Amie's arms for Adahni.

"It's been such a hard year since then. First Amie, then Lorne... then Mum, Bryden, Emmy, all my cousins... I never really got a chance to just mourn for her. Someone else I loved was always dying. I'm running out of people to love, Addie."

"It's the way of the world," Adahni said, "Come on, have a drink and dance with me."

Bevil smiled bravely, though the tears stood in his eyes, and gulped down a tankard of ale. The band was playing a jig, and he seized her around the waist and pulled her in with the whirling couples. They danced the way they'd always done in Westharbor. Right foot forward, then back, crossing, and then leaping together, front and back, round and round. By the time the song ended, they were both dizzy and red in the race, gasping with laughter.

"Don't ever run out of people to love, Bevil," Addie said, collapsing on the grass outside the mass of whirling couples, "Just remember, you've always got yourself."

"Heh," Bevil replied, "And who am I?"

"Fuck if I know," Addie giggled, "That's really up to you to decide, don't you think?"

"Maybe I'll be a great fucking warrior," Bevil said, "Be knighted by Lord Nasher and get a keep of my own, someday."

"That's the spirit!" Adahni said, "And a dozen pretty blonds vying for your hand."

"Ha!" Bevil crowed, "That'll be the day!"

"Look, there's one right now," Adahni said, pointing over at Katriona, who was socializing with a group of Greycloaks. Her muscular blacksmith's arms were concealed in the flowing sleeves of a blue gown, and the hair which often hung lankly against her neck had been pinned up and tied with a ribbon. Despite her height – the lady paladin was, after all, nearly six feet tall herself – she looked girlish and pretty, her pale complexion somewhat darkened by her work in the sun over the long summer.

Bevil chuckled, "Kat? Really? She's always so distant. I doubt she's interested."

"You'll never find out if you don't ask."

"I need more to drink," Bevil said, and went to procure it. Adahni laid down in the grass, feeling the last rays of the summer sun spread across her face. She enjoyed the warmth, but was chilled by the thought in her head, that perhaps this would be her last Harvest Fair.


	78. Our Good Man

_Author's note: I swear to God I am going to finish this story if it kills me!_

The festivities lasted late into the night. Adahni played a few sets with the band, a few of the Marshall's friends who'd come with him as a favor. They'd brought a singer with them, a young tenor named Lowren that Adahni had seen singing on the streets with his cap out for donations many a time. She played a couple of songs with them at Neeshka's behest, shyly harmonizing with Cormick's friend. They sang love songs and songs of war, but Addie knew that Neeshka would be expecting at least one funny song. Even on her wedding day, the tiefling appreciated a good laugh.

"Do you know the one about the good man and his wife?" Adahni asked Lowren. The boy chuckled and nodded, and the musicians grinned. Adahni lead with one line, and the rest joined in quickly. Lowren, though probably scarcely twenty, put on the voice of a grizzled old farmer with a northern accent.

_Home came our good man and home came he!_

_And there he spied a old gray mare where no horse should there be_

_And he called his wife and said to her, will you kindly tell to me,_

_Why is there an old gray mare where no horse should there be?_

_A horse? _Addie joined in, playing the part of the wife.

_Aye a horse. _

_Ah my love, yer a blind old drunk that ye can hardly see_

_For tis nothin' but a spotted cow me mother sent to me! _

Lowren began again, singing the part of the husband.

_Far have I ridden and many a strange thing seen_

_But a saddle on a spotted cow I'm sure there's never been!_

_Home came our good man, and home came he_

_And there he spied a pair o' boots where no boots should there be_

_He called his wife and said to her, please kindly tell to me_

_Who owns these pair o' muddy boots wehre no boots should there be_

_Boots?_

_Aye, boots._

_Ah my love, yer a blind old drunk that ye can hardly see_

_Tis nothin' but a flower pot me mother sent to me_

_Far have I ridden and many a strange thing seen_

_But a laces in a flowerpot I'm sure there's never been!_

_Home came our good man and home came he_

_And there he spied some knickers where no knickers should be_

_He called his wife and said to her, please kindly tell to me_

_Who owns this pair o' knickers, where no knickers should be?_

_Knickers?_

_Aye, knickers._

_Ah my love, yer a blind old drunk that ye can hardly see_

_Tis nothing but a dishcloth that me mother set to me_

_Far have I ridden and many a strange thing seen_

_But a buttons in a dishcloth, I'm sure there's never been!_

_Home came our good man and home came he!_

_And in bed he spied a handsome man where no man should there be_

_And he called his wife and said to her, will you kindly tell to me,_

_Why's another man all in our bed where no man should there be?_

_A man?_

_Aye, a man._

_Ah my love, yer a blind old drunk that ye can hardly see_

_Tis nothing but a chambermaid that me mother sent to me_

_Far have I ridden and many a strange thing seen_

_But a chambermaid with her willie up, I'm sure there's never been!_

As expected, Neeshka guffawed and clapped. Marshall took her about the shoulders and admonished her jokingly that she had better not try that on him! Adahni took this as a cue to keep going. She looked over her companions, Grobnar red in the face from blowing on his bagpipes, Neeshka smiling gayly, being kissed on the cheek by her new husband, and poor Casavir, blushing at the crudeness of the looked to the lute player, a great hairy dwarf named Grunt or Thud or some collection of primitive syllables like dwarves liked to name their children.

"Can you sing the one about the dockside lass?" he asked, "That's a funny one!"

She nodded, and laughed.

_Oh I am a dockside lassie and I come from bonny Port Llast_

_A sailor came from Baldur's Gate and he was bold as brass_

_He took me out a walkin beneath all out along the bay_

_And there the doddy wee rascal stole me thingamajig away_

_He took me out a walkin' down by the bonny seashore_

_He told to me he'd she me things I'd never been before _

_He showed to me the bonny tall ships all tied up on the quay_

_And showed to me the mast that stole me thingamajig away_

_Oh all you dockside lassies take this advice from me_

_Never let a sailor lad an inch above your knee!_

_Never let your knickers down or loosen up your stays_

_For if you do you can safely say your thingamjig's away!"_

It had the effect she was going for, half of the guests being scandalized and the other half tittering like bad students when the teacher stepped out of the classroom. Her fingers sore after their unaccustomed exercise, Adahni left the makeshift stage and went to drink herself blind, as she had the last fair.

The beer and whiskey flowed, and by midnight most had collapsed into drunk piles on the ground. Cormick and Neeshka had gone back to the largest of the cottages outside the castle walls, which Adahni knew Neeshka had coveted since their arrival. Leaving the cleanup to servants she had promised extra wages, she returned to the keep and climbed to the top of the tallest tower, where she could see the moon reflected in the river and cast an eye over the fields and forests, almost down to the see which shone like a tiny silver coin at the very end of her field of vision. She lit a smoke, and puffed away peacefully. The ranger, who always managed to find her, joined her after ten minutes or so, and filled up his pipe silently. The two of them smoked in silence for awhile.

"I suppose you can never truly be sure of solitude," Bishop said contemplatively.

"At least not with you around."

He chuckled, "I wonder why they bothered."

"Why they bothered what?" Adahni asked.

"Getting married, having some person or another say words over them that's supposed to hold them together in this world and the next or some such rubbish. Would you really want to be bound to someone for that long?"

"Me? No," she replied, "The one husband I found was quite enough for this world alone. I won't be having any children as need a man to declare himself the father, so there's really no reason for it."

"Me either," Bishop snorted, "It's all nonsense as far as I'm concerned."

"You're a little young to be speaking that definitively, aren't you?"

He chuckled, "We both grew up a little too fast for our own good, didn't we."

"We did," she conceded, "But even those of us who aged quickly still have things we're a little naïve about."

"Naive! Hardly," he scoffed, "I'm a man of the world."

"You're a nineteen-year-old boy," Adahni replied, "I still don't know what I want and I've had an extra six years to think on it good and hard."

"So this isn't what you want?" Bishop said, raising his eyebrows, "To be lady of a fine castle and all the lands that can be seen from the top of it?"

"Gods no," Adahni said, laughing, "My life is not my own right now, is it. I've sort of got no choice but to be lady of a fine castle, do I?"

The ranger smiled, "So you're still in there, aren't you Addie."

"Pssht," she exhaled, "I almost miss the days when we could barely rub two coins together and survived on my uncle's charity."

"So come away with me," Bishop said, "Let's just leave. Tonight. Pack up your armor, take some jewelry to sell and that mandolin of yours and we can be gone and far away from this place by noon tomorrow!"

"We cannot run fast enough that the King of Shadows won't catch up," Adahni replied somberly.

"The King of Shadows has never tried to outrun me," the ranger said, "If he tried he would fail miserably. Nothing is so great that it would swallow the whole world. We have time to get a head start, leave the land altogether."

"Without me he cannot be defeated," she replied, "I have no choice, Bishop, do you have no concept of that?"

"Of course you have a choice, you always had a choice," he replied, a little annoyed, "You've let yourself be led around by that bit of metal 'twixt your tits like a dog on a leash."

"I didn't ask for any of this to happen," she said, "Perhaps, when this is all over, however it ends, you and I can have the freedom we never had as children."

"Aye," he said, "Or be free in our graves under the Mere of Dead Men."

"Or that," she said, not silly enough to deny the possibility, "We venture there tomorrow, Elanee and I."

"And me," he said, "You think I'd let you set foot in the dead lands without me to keep you from stepping into a sinkhole?"

"Hope does spring eternal," she said, "But if I'm being led around by this piece of metal, you seem to be being led around by me."

"Can you blame a lad?" he said, chuckling, "Hope springs eternal, after all, and one of these days I imagine I'll wear you down."

"Perhaps one of these days," she said, smiling and lighting another smoke, "So do you have any ideas of how to get into the Claimed Lands?"

"Well there must be a way through," he said, "Creatures come and go."

"Sounds like you've given it some thought," she said, "Considering, of course, you'd prefer to put the whole thing at your back."

"Yeah, I have," he said, "I know you, Addie, you're stubborn as a mule and half as useful. Any idiot could deduce that some his more fragile servants would have had to have visited him at some point, right? So, there must be a way through. Garius, for instance."

"He was a mage, though, he often spoke to people through scrying portals."

"I doubt even a millenia-year-old ghoul would be fool enough to put so much trust in a man he'd spoken to only remotely. If there's another way, it's be worth finding out... the King of Shadows may even end up revealing it if he needs to get someone there bad enough. Bears thinking about – just got to make sure it's worth the risk to him."

"Good point," she conceded. She paused a moment. "I have a present for you."

"Do you now!" he exclaimed, "And what would that be? Another pair of boots like the ones you so unceremoniously vomited on in Neverwinter?"

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you...'" she muttered, "But no. I think you'll have quite a bit more fun with what I did get you."

He raised looked at her expectantly, a gleam in his pale eyes. "Now what might that be?"

"Torio Claven," she said, smiling fiendishly, "She's being brought here in a fortnight from her prison in Neverwinter. They'd be dithering about executing her for some time, but I convinced them that since her crimes were as much against myself as against Neverwinter, they ought to let me deal with her."

"Is that so..." he mused.

"It is," she said, "She, of course, will have information about Black Garius. Information that Nasher could not get out of her with his... more scrupulous means of interrogation."

"Are you asking me to loosen that Luskan bitch's tongue for you, Addie?" the ranger asked, grinning, his teeth white and wolfish in the moonlight.

"I am here," she said, "To get the job done. I would be remiss if I were to risk the lives of my men for want of intelligence that could be gained so easily, from such a deserving source."

"I see," Bishop said, "And what will you do with her when she has told her tales?"

"I think you and I have a tale to tell her," Adahni said.

"That the heart she keeps pickled in brine on her mantle is not that of a whore who stole her husband's affections, but of her dear husband himself?"

"She keeps it?" Adahni cried in horror.

"Ah yes, I didn't tell you that part," Bishop said, "When I went back for Kyla's ring," he gestured at the snake with eyes of garnet that now wound its way around the third finger of Addie's right hand, "She keeps it, presumably as a warning to all who would cross her."

Adahni's stomach turned and she put a hand protectively over her bosom, thinking how, if Dayven had been a little braver, it may well have been her own heart suspended in brine above Torio Claven's fireplace.

"There's little that a woman like that loves less than losing," Adahni said, "I have stripped her victories away, one by one. Perhaps learning the truth of her husband's fate might render her execution unnecessary."

"Aye, Addie, I knew you had it in you."

"But," she said, "First things first. The more we know about the Claimed Lands and the dark presence therein beforehand, the better chance we have of prying the critical stuff loose from Torio's grasp." She rose, stomped out her smoke and turned to go back to her chamber. "We're leaving midmorning to go in search of the druids of the Circle of the Mere, if you still care to come."

"Does that mean I won't be following you to bed?"

"You're a free man. You can do whatever it is you want."

"What, did you think I sought you out after midnight for a pleasant conversation?"

She shrugged, gathered her skirts, and started down the spiral staircase to the main floor. Before she'd reached the bottom, the ranger had caught up with her and thrown her handily over his shoulder. Laughing and protesting to stop, that someone would see them, she came to the realization that she didn't really care who saw them anymore, and let him carry her to her chamber and put her down – more gently than expected – on the bed.

"Something about hearing you talk so blithely about torture while wearing that dress..." he said, by way of an explanation, "It becomes you."

She chuckled, and started unlacing her bodice.

"And I missed hearing you sing," he said, leaning in to nip roughly at her neck, "Such a dirty, dirty song in such a lovely, lovely voice... I dare say the paladin doesn't know what he's missing out on..."

"Stop talking about him, you'll ruin the mood," Adahni groaned as his hands pushed the silk from her shoulders.

"No worries," the ranger replied, turning to pinch out the candle with his bare fingers, "You know you can trust me."


	79. In the Circle of the Mere

The safe entrance to the Claimed Lands that Bishop had located was a day's journey on horseback. He did not accompany them, preferring to scout along the edges to learn what he could learn. He took leave of them at the path he had found, bidding a gruff goodbye to the party and waiting until their backs had retreated to run one calloused hand through Adahni's hair. Like all of those gestures, she was not quite sure what was behind it or how to respond, and so she winked, and turned to follow her companions onto a rather soggy path into the swamp.

The Mere swamp had grown thick in her absence, the trees arching threateningly over the path so that what light did filter through was green and smelled of moss and decay. The birds were oddly silent, and the only sounds were those of small frogs peeping and making that noise that sounded like nothing but the string of a lute being plunked tunelessly.

"You can almost feel the shadows in the air," Elanee observed, "If you stay still for too long, it's like they start clutching at you, trying to drag you down."

"Ugh," Adahni said, the metaphor a little too accurate for her liking, and slapped at her arms as though the shadows, like mosquitoes, would land on her and suck her dry, "We can't stay here long. Let's go."

"Whatever the Circle did, they must have found a way to shield themselves from it. If we can find ot how they've done it, then we can reach the Vale of Merdelain, I'm certain of it."

"Between the smell and the oozing mud, I think I can safely cros it off my list of places that I would want to see again," Sand, who had insisted on accompanying them, claiming that another day in the company of Aldanon would lead to the elf either killing himself, or the sage. Now, he looked quite disappointed with his choice, seeing the murky water lap at his fine leather boots.

They followed the path into the depths of the Mere for about an hour, when the druid stopped short.

"Hush," Elanee said, leading them slowly upon the squelching path, "Here's the gathering place now... hold on." Ahead of them lay a wide swath of grass, at the center a huge swamp maple. It was somehow different than the trees around, set apart certainly, but it also had an air of dignity that the bent and warped wood around it did not.

Adahni heard the gentle gurgle of water in the background and the chirping of frogs grow louder, and could almost make out a whispering voice angrily underlying the noises of the swamp. It sent shivers up her spine, and the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end.

"Something's happening," Elanee said, pointing. Approaching the central tree were animals, but they were not animals. A fox, a wolf, a bear... all turned one by one into cloaked and cowled elves. The one who had been a bear, took a deep breath and let out a contented sigh.

"I feel more at peace with every passing day," the bear said, "I know you sense it too, Naevan."

The druids of the circle bowed their heads in unison. Addie didn't quite like something in Bear's voice, it had a sinister edge to it that set her teeth on edge. She looked into the dimness and realized that he was addressing the great tree.

"Will silence be your only answer?" the bear asked, almost mockingly.

To Adahni's surprise, another answer came, not from one of the elves in the circle, but from the tree itself. "Silence and contemplation is my only peace in this place. Do not forget I am your captive, Vashne."

"We keep you here because we believe in the circle. In time, you will see that we are right. And when the shadow has passed, you feel one with the land again," the bear – Vashne – replied.

"This isn't the Mere anymore," Naevan, the druid who was – as far as Adahni could tell – imprisoned in the tree, said, "You treat the shadow as if it were a passing mist. You fail to see how it now hangs upon you, upon this whole place."

"We are caretakers of this land, and we cannot abandon it."

"This land is a graveyard. Please, free me from this prison, and let's stop this decay from spreading." Naevan's voice implored from the tree.

Elanee darted forward at the sound of the tree's voice, before Adahni or any of the others could stop her. "Elders? Is it you? Forgive me for not seeking you out sooner, I thought you had all died in the Claimed Lands."

"Who are the ones who follow you?" Vashne asked, not taking his eyes off of the tree and Naeven, imprisoned therein.

"We came to seek out your help," Adahni said, though she wasn't sure how effective her appeal would be.

"They are my allies," Elanee said.

"They have the stench of civilization and war upon them, as do you."

_And you smell of moss and rotting corpses, _Adahni though, but let Elanee answer.

"Our path took us to Neverwinter, and through many battles – but this is the one from West Harbor, Elders, the one I had been watching."

"The Shardbearer! You brought the Shardbearer here?" one of the druids, an elfin woman who had been shifted into a fox, exclaimed.

"She could never leave Westharbor and its people be, which was the problem before, I believe," another one of the druids, who had been a wolf, said.

"We're here to seek your help, not question Elanee's actions," Adahni said.

"Help you? We are but recently remade, and you the one who nearly shattered us has come to break us again? A Circle is not complete when one of us is missing... or is too distracted with the trappings of civilization and its people!"

"Elders please," Elanee said, her voice growing a desperate ege, "I did not intend..."

"And even now you defend yourself rather than admitting your negligence!" the fox exclaimed.

"She might as well be one of the Harbormen – and shared their fate," the wolf commented.

"Your fascination with the Shardbearer meant we were less aware of the chances coming to this land until they were upon us! We are fortunate, this time, that the land itself has chosen to speak." Vashne said.

"You speak of a common foe," Adahni said, drawing all her bardic energy to make her voice smooth and calm. These elves were old, some as ancient as the marshes around them, and in their old age, it looked as though they had gone a bit peculiar. But Elanee was old too, past three hundred if she were to be believed, and she was full-cheeked and youthful. These elves, while perhaps older, had a wizened, shrunken look about them, as though the shadows beneath the Mere had drained the very life from their faces.

"Who are you to ask of us? You carry within you the very symbol for your civilization's capacity for destruction!" Vashne exclaimed, turning his ire and burning green eyes on her for the first time.

"Elders," Elanee said, "This King of Shadows poses a threat to all of us, not just cities and towns."

"Have you ever seen this King of Shadows?"

"No."

"Have you spoke with it?"

"No."

"Then what is this "King" other than a story used to explain forces greater than ourselves?"

_He has a point, _Adahni thought, _but as preposterous as our name for it may be, that does not change the nature of the beast, does it. King of Shadows or no, there is an evil force at work beneath the Mere. _"Call it what you will," she said, "You cannot deny its existence. Tell me, what does your former leader think? That one you have walled up in that tree there?"

"I am a captive here, Shard-bearer. A captive because I refuse to resign myself to madness. Elanee, this shadow is anything but natural. I don't know if Merdelain can be saved, bt I know that we cannot accept it, we must not-" Naevan said, before being cut off by Vashne's withering stare.

"Perhaps I have misjudged your value, Naevan," Vashne sighed, "Elanee, as the land changes, we must change with it. Stop clinging to what the Mere was and accept it for what it is now. Your friends will never see as we do, but it is not too late for you. Come back with us, and help us weather this storm to its completion."

"Do you truly think what is coming is for the best?" Elanee challenged him, but Adahni saw genuine question in her eyes.

"Vashne's right about one thing," Adahni said, "The Mere's time has passed."

"What do you mean?" Elanee asked. Adahni glanced over at Sand, who was watching her carefully, nervous about what she might say next. He'd never really had much love of Elanee, but she was preferable company to the round-ears after all, no matter how nonsensical he found her religious beliefs. That he wasn't speaking up told Addie something loud and clear. For once, Sand thought that her judgment might be best.

"You're more in touch with the land than they are – you hear its pain, they are dead to it," Adahni replied, appealing to those beliefs.

"But they are the Circle... they have tended it always. Maybe they simply hear it clearer than I."

"They are the Circle, not the Mere itself," Adahni said, "Look at what has become of them, they are shriveled shells of their former selves. Your ears are free of the nasty whispers of Shadow, what do you hear?"

"I hear the land, the Mere, in pain, in thrall to the Shadow..." Elanee said, her voice breaking, "You're right. They're speaking madness!"

"Then you are lost to us," Vashne said, bowing his head, "And you, Shard-bearer, you have been allowed to spread your influence for far too long."

"If this is what must pass, then pass it shall," she said, drawing her blade.

The druids were weakened, drawing as they were on the powers of the Mere, which had already been corrupted, but still put up a fight which might have been called respectable. Elanee shied away from the whole affair, and Addie didn't blame her, but dutifully set about the dirty work. As the last druid fell, Elanee heaved a great sigh.

"It is done. The Circle is dead, like the Mere," she said, her voice melancholy. She went over to the tree which had housed Naevan, and spoke some secret words under her breath. The bark and branches melted away, and Naevan's true form, an iron haired elf with a pointed nose and long jaw, appeared.

"What happened here was unfortunate," he said, looking ruefully at his slaughtered colleagues, "But your actions were the right ones. The Circle was dead long before you arrived, Elanee. Do not be unsettled by Vashne's words. I believe you have seen things more clearly than any of us."

"What will you do now, Elder Naevan?" Elanee asked, "I do not know how much is left for you to watch, not any longer."

"I don't know," the elf said, "The Circle is gone, as is the Mere, but much remains untouched."

"Then help us," Adahni said.

"My place is with what remains of the Mere," Naevan said, "Before I go, tell me, why do you continue to carry that burden in your chest?"

"Because Sand here is a lousy surgeon," Adahni replied.

"Then you carry the burden because you must, not because you wish to face up to it. That is the resolve of one that will fail," Naevan said.

"One _who _will fail," Adahni corrected him, "And I disagree with you. Those who choose to do things may choose not to when it no longer interests them. Those who do things because they have no choice may not waver, may not stop. It seems it is you who are failing. You chose to guard these lands, and now you turn your back on them because they are not what they once were."

Naevan looked at her a long moment, his eyes dark and aged, and then turned to Elanee.

"Farewell Elanee," Naevan said, rolling his eyes, no doubt thinking that proper grammar was nothing but one of the evil trappings of civilization that druids seemed to shun so much, "It looks like we must all find a new path."

"Farewell, Elder," Elanee said.

"Just Naevan now, Elanee, you did much here today, and I think we may speak as equals."

"Let's get out of here," Elanee said, casting about at the bodies of her friends as they sank slowly into the Mere, "I am no longer of this world."

Adahni nodded slowly, "You've a place by my side, Elanee, so long as you care to stay there."

Elanee said nothing, but nodded, and they plodded slowly back out of the Mere to solid ground.


	80. The Wizard's Tale

As they reached the edge of the swamp and Adahni went to untether the horses, Elanee sat herself heavily on a rock and sighed.

"Near a century I've been a druid of the Mere," Elanee said, her voice sounding old and tired. The shadows on her face made her look bent and stooped as trees that had begun withering from their roots as the blight spread slowly across the land.

"What were you before that?" Adahni asked softly.

"I don't remember," Elanee replied, "You wouldn't understand."

To Adahni's surprise, Sand went to the woman, putting one slim hand on her head. She did not react.

"Do you think I was always the owner of a charm shop on Neverwinter Docks?" the moon elf asked.

Elanee looked up at him. "To be honest, I'd never wondered," she replied.

"We've a ways to go back to the keep," Sand said, "Come on, then, I'll tell you a tale so riveting the hours will pass like minutes. Well, they'll likely just pass like ours in reality. But they'll be so very _interesting _hours."

Elanee gave a faint smile. Adahni led the druid's mount, a handsome bay mare she'd nicknamed Needy because of her overaffectionate nature. As they left, she had refused to go anywhere before Elanee had scratched her behind the ears and thrown her delicate arms around the mare's neck in the closest thing the elf could give to a bear hug. Now Elanee smiled and patted the mare's soft nose before allowing Adahni to lift her into the saddle. She gave Sand a rough leg up, and managed to scramble into her own saddle by herself, making a mental note not to allow herself to be the physically largest person on a mission again. She was not much taller than either of them, but she was broad in shoulder and hip and her back and arms were thickly muscled. She sometimes missed her old figure, being slim and slight, but remembered how easy it was to throw her against the wall or knock her to the ground, and was grateful for the bulk that now lined her body.

She clicked in the ear of her own mount, and elderly and ornery gray stallion she called Gramps, and the three of them began plodding up onto higher ground to follow the dusty road back up to Crossroad Keep. They were silent for nearly an hour as they plodded slowly up the road. Sand's face grew a solemn yet wistful expression as his slate-gray eyes stared off to the horizon, thinking on things long past.

"I was once quite a powerful wizard, and not very long ago, either," Sand said, "Quite well known, and in one false step, almost ten years ago, I lost everything that I had worked towards for a century."

"Before the Hosttower Mages took over Luskan, it was arguably a more powerful organization than it is now," Sand started as they walked their mounts up a gentle slope to where the path met the main road, "We dealt in shadows, in secrets, but if anything of import happened in Luskan town, you could bet your left pinky that the Hosttower either had a hand in it, or at the very least allowed it to come to pass."

"We?" Adahni remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, come then, Addie, you're not entirely thick, you and I know very well you'd had your suspicions."

She had, of course. Sand had been much too familiar with the Luskan agenda, and their strategies, during the whole Ember fiasco. She knew that he must have lived there for some time, and a man of Sand's ambition, however weasely and conniving that ambition was, would have certainly had his hands in whatever might have given him a bit more influence. She had seen precious little of the Hosttower when she lived in Luskan, but knew that they had some ties to the Circle of Blades. She had to admit, she was a little impressed that Sand had been a member of such a powerful organization; she had had no inkling of how enmeshed in the fabric of that wretched city he'd been.

"Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I was quite a powerful wizard. I was happy with the way things were. I had half of the politicians in my pocket, and most of the civil servants as well. If someone wanted something done, I would be the one to do it. Sure, the bribes would be handed to one pirate lieutenant or another, and from him to his captain, but somehow, for sure and certain, it would wind up in my pocket. Those fleabitten pirate lords ran things according to anybody who wasn't paying attention. But I will have you both know that the true art of controlling a city is by convincing all of its nominal leaders that what you want done was actually their idea in the first place.

"Of course it wouldn't be long before one of the other mages got too big for his britches. It's something you round-ears tend to do. A side effect of only being able to accomplish so much in the paltry seventy years or so you have the benefit of walking this plane, not to say I blame you I suppose. I'd watched Garius grow from a mere beardless apprentice into the jowly abomination we've come to know and love. I suppose I should have paid more attention to who he grew up to be, but you have to understand it happens so _fast _for us. One day he was sweeping the floors, and the next he's convincing all the other mages to make a grab for power and have the pirate lords assassinated.

"Now I, of course, was quite happy being a puppeteer and pulling the strings of Luskan politics from the comfort of my easy chair, but I knew better than the challenge the other mages. They were very powerful, after all, and it would be better to join them than to have them already suspicious of me when they went to knock off the pirate lords and discover just how deep I had my hands in their workings.

"After the coup, I kept a low profile, waiting for any opportunity to come along to make things the way they'd been. The pirates who survived scattered to the four winds. A few of them vied for supremacy overseas in Ruathym, but the ones who came by Luskan were mostly unassuming and happy to rob merchant ships no matter what color flags they flew. But, I found one that I thought I could use, a Halfling buccaneer by the name of…"

"Mackrem Cullygan?" Adahni blurted out incredulously.

"Ah, so you've heard of him!" Sand exclaimed, "I'm not such a fan of those who use their swords rather than their wits to fight their battles, but Mackrem was an exception. A thinking man's pirate!"

"Really!" Adahni exclaimed, "Sounds like you've got a bit of a crush on him."

Sand glared at her, but refused to grace the comment with any further response. "_Anyway, _as I was saying, he was the closest thing that the pirates had to a leader after the lords were dispatched. I contacted him through scrying portals a couple of times, told him that if he ever felt like making a grab for power now that his former masters were safe in their watery graves, he would have my silent support.

"It would have worked, too, if one of Garius's little sniveling wretches hadn't stumbled on the plot one night. I didn't realize I'd been found out until I was snooping in his office at the Hosttower one evening and found a missive he'd written to one of his lackeys at the Circle of Blades to go put a knife between his shoulder blades. I had the good sense to hightail it over the border before Captain Cullygan divulged our negotiations.

"My point, my dear druid, that you can never get back what you had before. Things change, the world changes, and you must change with it. It's not as bad as all that."

"Sand, I didn't think it was possible for me to believe this," Elanee said, "But you are even more devoid of any sort of morals than I previously thought. And forgive me if setting up shop in Neverwinter isn't quite my direction."

"The land is still there," Adahni offered, "There's more to it than swamp, too. There's woods and moors and mountains…"

"I've always wondered," Elanee said thoughtfully, "I've always wondered what it would be like to be a really fine lady, like Vania. To have a big house, and wear silk dresses and put baubles in my ears."

Adahni almost giggled at the childishness of her musing, but realized that if she had grown up and spent her entire centuries-long life to that point amid the murky water of the Mere, sleeping in trees and bathing in the cold river water, she, too, might fantasize about having fine, civilized things.

"And I do admit, hot water for bathing in the winter is wonderful," Elanee said, "You see, for years, my only glimpse at civilization was Westharbor. I'd lain eyes on Neverwinter once or twice, but always from a distance. You Harbormen were the first I'd seen go about their daily lives."

"I assure you, my dear," Sand said, "That hamlet _hardly _qualified, no offense intended. I remember, during my days in Luskan, the balls would last a week or more!"

Adahni snorted, "Luskan, like most places, treats its rich quite well. Given the choice, though, I'd rather  
be the lowest of dockside whores in Neverwinter than a fine lady of Luskan."

"To be honest I can't see you as a fine lady of anything, not even Luskan," Sand said, "But that's one elf's opinion."

"I've been meaning to ask you, though," Elanee said, "Why is it that village is called Westharbor? It's not even on the coast!"

"I've wondered that my whole life," Adahni said, "I imagine whoever named it was probably drunk, or just not very good with geography. I remember going to Luskan and introducing myself as a Harborman and everyone thought I meant I was a dockworker."

"Luskan, eh?" Sand said, "And when did you ever go to Luskan?"

"A long time ago," Adahni said, feeling the old familiar cold creep from her stomach to her heart as she thought about it, "A very long time ago."

Sand smirked, "The city has a way of changing people. I came to Luskan from the south as a young elf. I'd never cared for anything but knowledge and wisdom and the pleasures of the scholarly arts. If you had told me before I came to Luskan that I would crave power and influence and riches like pregnant women crave pickled cucumbers, I would have laughed in your face. And why, pray tell, did you go to Luskan, in a time that seems so long ago to you?"

"For love," Adahni answered simply.

"And you found yourself doing things you'd never imagined of yourself, did you not," Sand said.

Adahni nodded slowly, "I came away from Luskan craving nothing more than freedom, to be left alone to my own devices."

"And now you have it!" Sand said, "And I have my shop and, if you have any mercy at all, you will see that Elanee gets her fine house and lands."

"Really?" Adahni said, "Does this look like freedom to you? Since I left Luskan it has been naught but duty."

"Ahh,"Sand said, "But not the sort of duty that most of your kind is shackled to. Yes, you have a task to complete, and a very important task at that, but it is you and you alone who decide how it is to be accomplished. Freedom within boundaries, that is more than many of us could wish for!"

Adahni sighed, "I suppose, but given the choice, I would carve this shard from my breast and be done with the whole matter."

"Would you really?" Elanee asked skeptically.

Adahni put a hand under her chainmail and felt where the shard lay under her skin, cleaved to her breastbone as she had grown around it.

"No, I suppose I wouldn't," she admitted after a long silence, "To be honest I don't trust anyone else."

"Oh, I know that feeling," Sand said, "You don't want to do it, but if you don't , you know it just won't get done."

Adahni nodded, "Not to disparage you fine people…"

"Oh, disparage me all you like," Sand said, "I have no talent for leading men, and Elanee has no idea which end of the sword you hold. It pains me to admit it, but I do believe you may be one of the few I've met who had the wherewithal to rise to this sort of challenge."

Adahni blushed a little, pleased with the ornery elf's compliment.

"Someone told me once," Adahni said, "That this is the way it was supposed to happen."

"Nonsense," Sand said, "Proverbs and prophecies and all that nonsense. People do what they are going to do, and all we can really hope is that it all works out for the best."

They rode in silence for a long moment, the dull thuds of their mounts' hooves on the mud of the road the only noise. Adahni felt her spirits sink, and watched as Elanee, lost in her thoughts, no doubt of the life that had been hers that was now lost to her, slumped slowly in her saddle. The elf finally spoke up, her voice thick with sorrow, "Sing us a song, Addie. I can't bear this silence."

Adahni looked up at the elf, her face lined with worry, her eyes looking so very old. She was not like Neeshka or Bishop, who could be cheered by a bawdy song no matter how deep their anguish. The elves dealt with their feelings as only those who had seemingly infinite time. They had to wallow for awhile. Adahni cleared her throat, and sang a song she had learned from a young plowboy when she was a child. The young man had sat on a haystack, playing a harp while his companions watched him and their eyes grew full missing their own homes and parents and sweethearts. She conjured that image, the strong young men weeping for their homes that they would soon seen as soon as the snows began to fall, and sang it for the young woman so suddenly grown old, whose home was lost to her forever.

_Oh the rose upon the briar__  
__And the clouds that float so high__  
__Bring joy to the linnet and the bee__  
__And their little hearts are blessed__  
__But mine can know no rest__  
__Since my true love is far away from me__  
__All you who are in love__  
__Aye and cannot it remove__  
__I pity the pain that you endure__  
__For experience lets me know__  
__That your hearts are filled with woe__  
__It's a woe that no mortal can cure__  
_


	81. Superior Extrapolations

They stayed the night at an inn in the middle of a ranching town on the moors between the Circle of the Mere and the foothills where Crossroad Keep. Elanee excused herself early to go to bed and Adahni stayed for an ale downstairs, the gears of her mind already turning on what her task was upon her return to the keep. According to Lord Nasher's missive, Torio would arrive, under heavy guard. She had left instructions with Bevil to have her locked in the tower down the corridor from Ammon Jerro, just to make sure the two of them didn't start plotting when her back was turned. She had imagined the moment in her dreams, ever since the end of the trial by combat. Torio, her dress in tatters, gaunt and shackled in a tower, _her _tower. She would steal up in the dead of night, put a hood over her head, and have her carried to the dungeon, to the room where Black Garius had fallen in the midst of his wicked ritual. She would not bind her, but leave her in the middle of the circle that was scorched into the flagstones. Let her try to get away. Watch her fling herself again and again against the heavy oaken door. Scream for help that was not coming. And all the while, Adahni would sit there, her back to the wall, smiling.

At the bar, Adahni smiled into her ale, swigged it down, and bought another. A young man at the end of the bar, an employee of one rancher or another by his garb, was giving her the eye, not knowing who she was. She looked up and smiled at him, winked one pale eye, and turned back to her drink.

"I know what you're planning."

Sand sidled up to her, positioning himself between her and the young cattleman. Adahni sighed and rolled her eyes.

"And what is your interest in what I'm planning?" she asked, "Do you have something against the boy at the end of the bar?"

Sand rolled his eyes, "No, I have no interest in your chastity. Methinks any semblance thereof is long gone in any case. No, I have an interest in what you plan on doing with a certain former ambassador from Luskan."

A chill went up Adahni's spine. She had a certain affection for the sardonic elf, but would not trust him any further than she could throw him.

"Have you been spying on me?" she asked mildly, keeping her voice steady.

"No, I haven't been spying on you," Sand said, "I just happen to have asked Kana to put me in charge of the mail that comes and goes from Crossroad Keep and every so often there's a letter addressed to you where the seal may or may not have come off in transit."

"So you've been spying on me," she concluded, "I'll ask Kana to assign you to another round. Emptying chamberpots, perhaps…"

"Don't be a fool, Addie," Sand replied, "Unlike some of your companions, I find myself agreeing wholeheartedly with most of your decisions. You are unfailingly practical, a trait I admire in anyone, and is exceedingly hard to come by among you round-ears. Why do you think I've stayed by your side this long? Your earthshattering beauty? Your gentle ways?"

"What are you getting at, Sand?" she asked.

"What I'm getting at," he replied, "Is that I know that you and Torio have a score to settle. I also know that for all her faults, Mrs. Claven will try to bargain til the last to walk away from this with the least skin off her arse and perhaps a concession or two from yourself."

"Mrs. Claven is sorely fucking mistaken if she thinks she's going to get anything resembling a concession from me," Adahni said. Her next ale had arrived. She sipped it, and looked to the end of the bar. The handsome cattleman had left, probably thinking Sand was a rival or perhaps an angry male relative, and she sighed.

"I would advise you to tread carefully," he said, "Torio may have played her last hand poorly, with the massacre at Ember, but she is not a complete idiot. I have seen people less worthy than you make the mistake of underestimating her and pay dearly for it."

"Is that so," Adahni said, "Tell me what you know of Mrs. Claven. I see that I would do well to heed your counsel."

The small compliment was all Sand needed to puff up his chest, seat himself in a bar chair, and order an ale. When it came, and he'd wet his mouth with it, he began.

"Everything you need to know about Torio you can glean from her late husband, Evendyn," Sand said. Adahni's blood went cold, and the final moments of Evendyn Claven's life flashed through her head.

"Evendyn," Adahni repeated, "Someone married that shrew?"

Sand guffawed, "Torio was the daughter of a chimney sweep and a seamstress, something she has managed to make everyone forget. She was never pretty, but she was ambitious, and as smart as she needed to be. Evendyn was high born, the son of a prominent lord, and stood to inherit a title, as well as lands outside the city limits and a fine house in the finest district in all of Luskan. He had married a similarly high-born lady, quite an accomplished wizard by the name of Kailana Fairus. Altogether too good for him, Kailana was, and he knew it."

"What do you mean by that?" Adahni asked, imagining Evendyn Claven before his hair had gone gray, on the arm of a lady wizard. In her mind, Kailana looked something like Vania.

"Ah, Kailana Fairus," Sand sighed, his eyes taking on a faraway look, "She was widely called the most beautiful woman in Luskan, and by rights, too. Long, flowing, black hair, blue eyes…"

"Why Sand," Adahni said, "And to think all this time I thought you preferred boys…"

"Hush, you," the elf said, crossly, "Anyway, as I was saying, he gained her hand over all the other boys who wanted her."

"And how'd he manage that?"

"He was fabulously wealthy, and he put on great shows of his affection," Sand said, "I only know this because of the princely sum he paid one of my colleagues at the Hosttower for rare spells he knew that his sweetheart desired."

"I see."

"They were wed, and it seemed as though they would live happily ever after," Sand said, "Or however it is you bards say it at the end of nice tales where everything ends with flowers and sunshine."

"Why do I get the feeling that this does not end with flowers and sunshine?"

"Because it doesn't," Sand said, "They were happy, or as happy as an intelligent and lovely woman can be with such a brute of a man, for about ten years. She was getting big in the belly with their first child, it was the talk of the town. Meanwhile, a seventeen year old seamstress's apprentice by the name of Torio Ballish had joined their household staff, making gowns to accommodate the lady's changing figure. With her was little lapdog of a boy, Khralver Irlingstar, who was not much of a man but knew enough charms and minor spells to sow the seeds of chaos in the Claven household. Somewhere in the house, a nasty rumor started, that Kailana's baby was not the son the Evendyn Claven longed for, but the bastard child of a minstrel she'd been having an affair with!"

Adahni raised her eyebrows, "Goes to show that words that are just words are just as damaging as any spell."

"Now, I don't know what it is that actually happened," Sand said, "But my sources within the Claven house have told me what they saw, and this is what I have pieced together thanks to my own superior critical thinking skills. The official report of what happened was that, when the baby was born and was clearly half elven, Evendyn flew into a rage and threw his wife and the child out on the streets with the blood of birth still on them."

"So she was having an affair?"

"Perhaps she was," Sand said, "But tell me, if you were the wife of such a powerful man, and you were to have an affair with another, and your lover was of a different race entirely than your husband, don't you think you would take some special precautions to ensure that the fruit of your adultery never saw the light of day?"

Adahni nodded. A clever wizardess would know that there were any number of spells and charms and good old-fashioned herbs that would prevent a pregnancy altogether – or end one soon after conception.

"No, no, I think something entirely more sinister was going on," Sand said, "There were only five who attended the birth. Kailana, Evendyn, the midwife, her apprentice, and the first maidservant that she pulled out of the hall."

"Torio?"

"You're a clever girl, Addie," Sand said, "What I think happened, and mind you this is only my extrapolations, which I assure you are far superior to most, is that Torio went into the birthing chamber armed with a scroll inscribed by her shadow, Khralver, and cast a charm on all in the room. Simple illusions are easy even to an amateur spellcaster, especially in a stressful situation where people are concentrating on something more important – the birth of a child. She knew Evendyn's temper, and knew that the mere suggestion would be enough to set him off."

"What happened to Kailana and the child?"

"Well, it was probably for the best," Sand said, "Considering the monster Evendyn revealed after he threw them out."

"Monster?"

"Kailana and her baby escaped to her family in an estate outside Luskan's walls, where they had the good sense to sell their property and leave for another city-state. Evendyn was not a forgiving man, and he would have stopped at nothing to destroy all of them. With the Fairus family gone, he turned his wrath on everyone else."

"Everyone else?" Adahni asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Torio had him in her claws. She'd been turning him against his wife for months before the birth, feeding him poison words steeped in her honeyed voice. She'd convinced him that she was the only woman he could trust. The rest of them were all heartless and conniving and would stop at nothing to gain what was his for themselves."

"Ha! When in reality, she was the one who was seeking what was his."

"Indeed," Sand said, "Evendyn Claven was not a very clever man. He was used to his women doing his thinking for him, and without Kailana he had no idea what to do next, and so he married Torio. With her newfound title, she worked her way into the good graces of the city government, and eventually landed a position as ambassador to Neverwinter. The two of them turned out to be a perfect couple, after all."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Evendyn had gotten it into his head that all women were evil, especially the ones who would use succor and sweetness," Sand said, "Except for his wife, whom I believe he feared. And so he visited his wrath on any who would have it. Mostly prostitutes, the odd maidservant here and there."

"So he was known for this?" Adahni asked.

"Yes," Sand said, "Like I said, he was a brute of a man. Torio wound up digging her own grave. In getting him away from his wife, she turned him into a monster that would go out trapping young women in his web, using them up, and throwing them away. And this, in turn, turned her into a jealous shrew."

"She was jealous? Even though she'd only done any of this to get her hooks into his money and title?"

"Torio Claven is a very possessive creature. After she'd gotten him away from his wife, she was inherently suspicious of any other woman he came across, fearful that another girl would do to her what she had done to Kailana. And so she became very jealous almost to the point of obsession, especially when she was away attending to her work in Neverwinter."

"And what happened to Evendyn?"

"Now that!" Sand said, "That is a mystery for the ages! I left Luskan several years before he went missing, but my sources told me that he'd gone to a whorehouse one night and just disappeared. No body, no nothing, and the whore he was with was never heard from again either! The room she rented was positively soaked in blood, but there was no sign of either of them."

Adahni's heart skipped a beat, "So, what do your superior extrapolations tell you?"

"Well, as you know I am quite a great investigator, if you remember my first-class skills in Ember. Unfortunately I was not in Luskan at the time, as I had had to make myself scarce as I told you and Elanee earlier today. So I did not see the scene with my own eyes, but a source from the Luskan watch told me that there was much too much blood there for one man or one woman. From what I gathered, they fought and bled. One survived, and the other disposed of the body. It's any guess as to which was which."

"If he had survived and the whore had died," Adahni said, "Why would he have left town?"

"That has crossed my mind," Sand said, "After all, he managed to get away with murder on several occasions. Funny how money and a title will let you do that."

"So you think he's dead?"

"Ha!" Sand said, "Maybe he is. Personally, I feel that he met a woman who was his match and left Torio for her and they ran away and are living in a cottage somewhere in the hinterlands. But that's my neverending belief in poetic justice."

"Is that so," Adahni said, smirking, "Well I'll hope that that's the case, for your sake. So what happened to Torio after that?"

"She'd been in bed with Black Garius for a long time before that happened," Sand said, "But she is still quite a possessive woman. You killed Garius, and took her position from her. She will do her best to manipulate you with words. If you bring a man into the room with you, she will try to use what charms she has left on him. Careful with whom you allow into the chamber when you interrogate her."

"Is that an offer?" she asked.

"Goodness no!" Sand exclaimed, "I understand what kind of woman she is, by all means, but it pains me so to see the mighty fall, no matter how deserving. It reminds me of my own fate."

"Your fate wasn't so bad," she said.

Sand sighed, "I suppose it could be worse. It could always be worse."

"You're a clever man," Adahni said, "I'm sure you'll manage to manipulate and claw your way up the social ladder in some capacity or another, with or without my help."

"Oh yes," Sand said, "Don't you worry about me. I've always managed to look out for myself."

"Do I need to worry that you'll put a dagger between my shoulderblades?" Adahni asked.

"Of course not," Sand said, "Like I said, I find your mind admirable. Either way, it matters not to me. There's precious little sense in assassinating humans. It's just as easy for me to sit back, and wait. You will die, sooner or later, and I will still be around without a lick of gray in my hair."

"Well there's a comforting thought," Adahni sighed.

"It is the way of the world, my dear Addie," Sand said, "We all have our parts to play."

"Yes, indeed we do," Adahni said, "And I will relish the part I've to play in the next few weeks, and you should count yourself among my very good graces for admitting that to you. I thank you for your counsel, Master Elf, but I'll be going to bed now. I see that whether your concern was for my chastity or not, all the handsome men have left anyway."

"Two birds with one stone!" Sand exclaimed, "Get yourself to bed. You've much work to do on the morrow."


	82. Ammon Jerro and the Sea of Souls

Ammon Jerro was pacing the length of his cell, lengthwise along the wall with the small fireplace, then walked the width of the wall with the barred window, and back, tracing an L shape over and over and over. It had been only a few weeks that he had been prisoner in this tower only fifty or so feet to himself. Of course, he thought to himself, such a powerful necromancer as myself could escape this cell in seconds if I wanted to. Some niggling doubt in the back of his mind had kept him from trying, even as he paced over and over, in an effort not to go mad. He began to feel sympathy for the demons and devils he had kept locked in their summoning circles, a bit smaller than his 6 by 8 cell, for years, not weeks. The captain was not unkind, he mused, kinder than he would have been to her were their roles reversed. She'd had books sent up from the library for his perusal, and allowed Aldanon, who was senile but still quite clever, to come up to talk to him. He had not lain eyes on her, though, since the day she had left him there.

And so it was a bit of a surprise when she arrived one morning, dressed not in her armor but in a cotton shift and a kerchief over her hair.

"I was wondering when you would return," Jerro said. He stood with his back to the bars, staring into the fire.

"You haven't tried to escape," she said, "Why?"

"We both want the same thing," he replied, hedging his words carefully, "And I don't know what charms you've had put on this cell to rend me into pieces once I attempt to open a portal."

"Clever man," she said, "So you're not dreadfully put out with me?"

"I am in possession of a modicum of empathy," Jerro replied, "I am not made of stone. Were I in your shoes, I would have done the same."

He heared the clanking of keys, the groan of metal on metal as one of them found its home and the creak of the door as it swung open.

"I need a favor of you," she said, "And part of that favor is to not ask me why."

"And what do I gain from this?" he asked.

"Freedom to walk the grounds," Adahni said, "A room off the library. Use of the laboratory at the top of this tower."

"And what it is you ask of me?"

"You are a necromancer, no? I have need of your talents. I need you to summon a particular shade for me. Or, rather, I need you to scribe a scroll for me, that I may do so."

"A particular shade, eh?" Jerro said. This was interesting. Locating a particular ghost in the sea of the wretched dead was always an adventure. Different practitioners of the dark arts envisioned the search in different ways. An apprentice of his had always imagined that he was in a very dark castle, in a hallway of doors, and the names of the dead were inscribed upon them. Another colleague described it as a forest, with the shades swirling like fog behind trees. Jerro himself had always envisioned himself standing on a stone jetty in the midst of a misty sea of souls. He went to that place sometimes in his dreams – or nightmares.

"Yes," she said.

"Do you have something of his?" Jerro asked, "They come more quietly when you have something they held dear in life."

"I have something that he stole," the Captain said. She slid something off of her finger and handed it to Jerro. It was a large ring, big enoug hthat it probably took up the whole of the space between the girl's knuckles. He felt a jolt of magic as she passed it to him, and thought he saw flames flickering in the garnet eyes of the snake in whose shape it was made.

"This did not belong to him," Jerro said, "I can read it, all of its owners were women. It's useless to me. Do you have anything else he might want?"

She paused a moment. Her eyes were pale, cold, and calculating, "I might."

"And what might that be?"

"His murderer," Adahni replied.

"You'll have to come with me then, little murderer," Jerro said, "Come, sit by the fire, and we shall go in search of your shade." He thought for a moment, and then went fumbling through one of the chests that Aldanon had been so kind of bring him. Mugwort. Aconite. A dried toad. Ah, what the hells... He took all of them and cast them into the fire where they crackled and sent up plumes of bluish smoke into the air. Adahni sat without flinching at the smoke. He took her small, dry hand in his.

"Close your eyes," he said.

She obeyed, those two topaz orbs disappearing behind her eyelids. He spoke an incantation, and found himself on a familiar rocky shore. The moon was out, casting its silvery light on the undulating mist of the sea of the wretched dead. He had succeeded in bringing the Captain with him. She stood next to him, but... curious... she did not look like herself. Her hair was longer, and pinned up messily with strands hanging in her face. She was thinner, her eyes peering out from two hollows.

"What the fuck are you staring at, Jerro?" she demanded.

"Interesting," Jerro said, "You are quite a clever girl."

"He would not recognize me as I am now," she said, "Anyway, this is all in our heads, right? I've read books on this. When you go looking for a shade, everyone sees it differently. We appear as we want to appear."

Jerro nodded, wondering at what strange twists of fate had turned the gaunt and unkempt girl before him into the sturdy Knight-Captain who had vanquished so many. He walked down the beach of his own mind, recognizing every boulder, every wan dune covered in coarse sea-grass. He could feel the rocks and shells crunch under his feet as he came to the jetty. He walked slowly out into the misty sea, followed by the Captain. She looked down at the faces in the misty water, but said nothing. It was a long walk out into the sea of souls. They reached the end.

"What was his name?" Jerro asked.

"Evendyn Claven," the Captain said, her voice bitter.

Jerro turned to the sea, spread his arms. The tattoos on his had blazed blue in the eerie moonlight. "Evendyn Claven!" he bellowed, "Evendyn Claven, I summon you!"

He saw the Captain tense slightly as the misty sea roiled and a tidal wave formed far out in the distance. It rushed at them, a white wall of souls, instead of the rushing of water, the shrieks of the dead issued from it as it rolled in from the horizon. Jerro stood tall, and raised his hand, palm out, in the face of it. As it grew closer, it did not slow, but stopped dead a few inches in front of his hand. The face of the dead parted, and through the wall of water, stepped an apparition. A middle aged man, in his forties or fifties. Silvery blood decorated his fine doublet, and the handle of a throwing knife protruded from between his eyes. Ammon looked him over, and noticed to his amusement that the apparition's pants were undone.

"You!" it growled in a voice at once human and inhuman. It did not even look its summoner, but stared past him at the Captain in her haggard form, "Why have you come here?"

Ammon began his incantation. The right words, the right spell, would reveal the essence of the shade, which he could scribe upon a scroll to summon the spirit to their plane.

"Because I own you now," Adahni said, 'You are mine to command as I please."

"You are nothing!" the spirit raged, but he could not step past Ammon Jerro to attack her. The necromancer took note of all of this, but did not pause his incantation. He kept whispering the words, over and over, until the symbols came clear before his eyes.

"I release you. Go. I am done with you," he said.

"I have unfinished business!" the spirit insisted, but the wave began retreating. Ghostly arms protruded from the sea to bind him, to drag him back into the ocean, and soon they had hidden him from view.

"I have what I came for," Ammon Jerro said, "That is the shade you wanted?"

"Indeed," Adahni said.

"He'll be harmless in our world,"the necromancer said, "Except for his words. I imagine he knows some secrets." He looked again at the grim-looking captain. She looked old and drawn compared to the woman he remembered.

"I'm not interested in what you imagine, Jerro," she said, "You've fulfilled half of your part of the bargain. Finish the rest of it and I'll see that you're taken care of."

"Very well," he said. He raised both hands. His tattoos blazed bright for a moment, and they were back in his cell in the tower. Adahni was again her tanned and healthy self. Ammon rose quickly to grab a scroll and quill, jotting down the symbols that he revealed themselves to him as he examined the shade in the netherworld where they had just been. "Here," he said, blowing the ink dry and handing it to her, "You're going to want to go to a quiet place. You're not a necromancer, but you've got some magic in you, so you won't have to force it as hard as some."

"What do you mean?"

"An average person might have to make a sacrifice," Jerro said, "A lamb, or a pig. Some might even have to kill a human..."

"But I won't?"

"Probably not. Cut your arm below the elbow. Copy these symbols onto the ground or floor with your blood. When you're ready to summon the spirit, stand on the symbols and call his name thrice."

"That's all?"

"To banish him, all you need to do is rub out the symbols, and he will fade back into the netherworld."

Adahni nodded, "That was easier than I thought."

"I am not an unreasonable man," Ammon Jerro said, "I hope you see that by now, and that I am a necessity to his task you have ahead of you."

"Indeed," the Captain said, "Go speak with Wolf. He's waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. He'll show you to your quarters. You'll also have a budget – several thousand gold pieces. Equip yourself with what you need. And have a drink on me."

"I underestimated you, Adahni Farishta," Ammon said. He knelt, fastened the chest that Aldanon had sent him, and picked it up. It contained everything he owned at the Keep. Mostly parchment and quills and herbs and other things he used in his magic. It would be nice to buy something to wear besides the woolen robe that he had worn back at his haven. A bath, perhaps. He still had the stench of the lower realms on him.

"In what way?" Adahni asked.

"You are quite a reasonable person as well."

"High praise from a necromancer, I see," she said.

"It's the highest you'll get from me," he said.

"Very well," she said. She rolled up the scroll and put it in a case, which she tucked under her arm, and started down the long spiral staircase back up to the Keep.


	83. The Inquisitors

It was an appropriately dark and stormy night when Adahni plucked a torch from one of the sconces and descended the stairs to the dungeon. It had not been touched since Black Garius had performed his final ritual there. The remnants of magic that remained in the summoning circle glowed faintly in the torchlight. The ranger was already waiting there for her. She could feel his presence, and that of the former ambassador. She had come down earlier, using Bishop's knife to open a vein in her arm and copy the symbols that Jerro had given her onto one of the flagstones. She went upstairs to bandage herself up, and told Bishop to bring Torio down, blindfolded.

"I can see the light of the torch through this scarf around my eyes, Adahni Farishta," Torio said. She was not bound, but she stood still in the glow of her former master's creation, "What do you want from me?"

"I need you to tell me everything you know about Black Garius," Adahni said.

"And what good would that do me?" the ambassador asked.

"You could keep your tongue," Adahni said, "Hands, fingers, all things that it does dreadfully hurt to lose."

She saw the ambassador stiffen momentarily, but then force composure, "I don't know what it is you think of me, Farishta, but I feel no loyalty to Garius or to Luskan. Remove this blindfold and I will have you know what it is you wish to know."

"You don't feel loyalty to pretty much anyone, do you, Torio?" Adahni asked. She signaled to the ranger, who took the blindfold from her face, "You're a woman of ambition. You think you know how to play every angle, don't you?"

"I always have," she said, "I was born a nobody. I became an ambassador, the wife of one of the most powerful nobles, and the trusted confidant of the Master of the Fifth Tower."

"Oh spare me, you pathetic creature," Bishop said, "You've done nothing but connive and spread you legs to get anywhere you've gotten."

"And it's done me well so far," Torio said, looking at him, "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I feel sorry for any man for whom _that _is a step up, is all I've got to say about that," the ranger said.

"I met Garius when I was just the daughter of a seamstress. I worked for my mother during the day and singing in one of the alehouses around near where the Arcane Brotherhood kept themselves for spare coppers. He paid me to keep an eye on members of the brotherhood who came to avail themselves of the pleasures of found therein."

_So we have something in common, do we Torio, _Adahni thought, "So you've known Garius quite a long time."

"I have," Torio said, "I saw so much of the comings and goings. I was able to rat out quite a few mages who thought they would seek power for themselves. After I sniffed out one particular rat, that snivelling elf who thought he would defend you at your trial, Garius was so pleased with me that he secured me employment in the house of Evendyn Claven, my dear late husband."

"So you were a useful tool, were you?" Bishop sneered, "To be used by whatever more clever or powerful person crossed your path?"

"There is only so much a wizard's scrying eye can see, and I became the eyes that saw the rest."

"Why Master Bishop, I do believe she thinks this is something to be proud of!" Adahni exclaimed, "Like we're interested in you, you pathetic thing. We want to know about Garius."

"Rarely have I seen someone of Garius's raw ambition," Torio mused, "He was determined to become master of the towers – and he rose through the ranks so quickly, so brutally, that he earned the name Master of the Fifth Tower."

"There are only four towers," Adahni said.

"His hunger for power lead to his downfall," she said, "Much as it has to myself."

"At least you admit it."

"He became obsessed with the ritual, which lead him here. The alliance with the King of Shadows was a delicate one, and the scales were heavily in the King of Shadows' favor. That did not sit well with Garius and his ambitions."

"Nor you and yours I would imagine," Adahni said.

"Through research, he uncovered a ritual tied to the King of Shadows that would provide him with the power he needed to make the arrangement more to his liking. It seems the ritual they were doing succeeded, and it seems it gave them great power. The price, though... perhaps it was not what they intended. Where once they were allies of the King of Shadows, now they are thralls."

"And you and Lorne? What was your part in this?"

"Oh, Lorne," Torio, "To think I had almost forgotten about him. Such a nice boy. Such a handsome boy."

Adahni felt the rage well up in her, remembering her friend, her protector, twisted and warped into the scarred and empty-eyed man she had seen Khelgar dispatch on the tourney grounds in Neverwinter.

"You forgot about him, did you," she said, "Use him up and flung him away, much as Garius has done to you?"

"Now don't be foolish, girl," Torio said, "I am still alive. Lorne is in his swampy grave, fodder for the mold and worms."

The ambassador was a smart woman. She had been hoping to press a button, to make Adahni lose control. She would not grant her that satisfaction, but she would be very pleased to make her suffer for the comment. She approached slowly and, smiling sweetly, delivered a blow to Torio's face that sent her to the ground, clutching her she was down, Adahni, still smiling, kicked her as hard as she good, feeling two ribs crack and crunch beneath the steel toe of her boot.

"Continue," she said sweetly. The ambassador continued to writhe on the ground. Breathing must have been agony for her, but Adahni felt little sympathy. She sat herself on the ground, directly on top of the symbols she had scrawled her in her own blood on the flagstone, and watched Torio's pain. The whole affair sent a little thrill of schadenfreude up her spine and made her feel all tingly. She locked eyes with the ranger, and she could tell he felt the same way from the wolfish grin on his face.

Torio coughed twice, and struggled to sit up. "He had an agent in Old Owl Well," she said, painfully, "A priest of shadows doing research upon copses to uncover a process of allowing those with arcane abilities to keep them even after undeath claimed them. And he needed the Tome of Iltkazar, which was held by Luskan's neighbor Ruathym."

"Ah yes," she said, "The island nation."

"Its theft caused Ruathym to mount an attack on Luskan, and Luskan was more than eager to respond. They have been at each other's throats ever since. Garius used Luskan resources to obtain the book... it was only natural that Ruathym blame Luskan, and Luskan has long lusted after Ruathym, to add its land to their own."

"Politics," Adahni sniffed.

"You didn't have to hit me," Torio said, holding her broken ribs.

"Oh, of course I did," Adahni said, brightly, "You tried to have me killed. Not only killed – executed. You would have put me in the ground and let the whole world think I was a mass murderer. A few broken bones is a bargain in exchange for what you put me through!"

"A bargain. And so I should be grateful?" Torio asked.

"Oh, no no no," Adahni said, "I plan to pay you back in full for what you've done to me. For all that you've done to me."

"All?"

"You'd be surprised how often our paths have crossed," she said, "We three."

Torio looked up at the ranger, who was standing over her and leering down at her. "Three?"

"You were once married to a man named Evendyn," Adahni said, "You used small magic and tricks to get him to put away his wife, and you clung to the shreds that remained of him like a starving dog to a butcher's bone."

Torio went pale, "How do you know of this?"

"Oh, but you broke him. Your tricks went further than you'd planned, and you turned him into a monster who was bent on destroying every small thing of beauty he desired. Did you know that he murdered whores and maidservants? Or were you ignorant of that as well?"

"Like I would care what happened to a whore," Torio said, "Women who sell their honor like thatet what is coming to them!"

Adahni chuckled lowly, and glanced up at Bishop. He read her signal, and stepped lightly on the hand that Torio was leaning on. She winced as he bore down slightly. Enough to hurt, not enough to break bones.

"Oh, poor Torio. Was it that nobody would have you, even for the cheapest copper?" Adahni sneered, "Your husband was a murderer, plain and simple."

"My husband was a lecher," Torio said, "But he was no murderer."

She let loose a scream, as Bishop put all of his weight on her hand. Bones cracked and the sound echoed through the chamber.

"My sister," he growled in her ear, "He murdered my sister."

"No he didn't," Torio said, looking up at him, tears streaming involuntarily from her eyes, "He didn't kill any of them."

"Really," Bishop said, his voice hoarse with rage, "Then who did?"

"I did." Torio said.

Once before, Adahni had seen Bishop so struck by words that he stumbled backwards. For a man who spent his life anticipating things, knowing how to keep things in order, being startled was quite literally like a physical slap in the face. Once was when Jem Quarely had announced his parentage to the bar full of people after Casavir's wedding. And now, he did it again. Torio pulled her freed but mangled hand in to her body and struggled to her feet.

"Do you think I would have allowed one such as that to take what was mine?" she bellowed, suddenly seeming much taller and more frightening than she was. The area around her eye was beginning to go back, "Do you think that I, with all the assassins at my disposal that Garius's favor would bring me would have allowed such a thing to happen?"

"Do you know who I am?" Adahni asked softly.

"You're the obnoxious little thorn that has not left my side since you first appeared in it sometime last year," Torio growled, "But mark my words, one day I will pluck you from me and grind you underfoot like the disgusting vermin you are."

"I once went by the name of Addie Elhandrien," she said.

Torio laughed as loud as her crushed ribs would allow her, "You were that miserable addict's wife? That coward who could not raise a blade when he wasn't out of his mind on Cyric's Madness? He was only good for killing whores and halflings."

"Whores and halflings?"

"Of course, you stupid cow, do you think I'd send a real assassin to take out the wretched doxies my husband tried to stick his limp prick in? Dayven was good for nothing but that. Good at making it look like an accident, too."

"Unless he were to cut her heart out," Adahni said, "So that you could keep it as a memento. What, was stealing jewelry from poor dead whores not enough to slake your thirst for dominance?"

Torio's glassy eyes narrowed, "How did you know about that?" Adahni held up her finger where the snake ring appeared the writhe in the flickering torchlight, "Remember this?"

"Where did you get that?"

Adahni smiled sweetly again, "You must wonder where you husband went," she said, "Yes, I know it's been several years, but they never did find a body, did they?"

"I fed him to the dogs," Bishop said. He'd risen again, and started towards the fallen ambassador, amber eyes blazing, "I butchered him like the pig he was. But not before I cut out his heart and put it in a rosewood box and handed it to Dayven Elhandrien. Do you really think that that sordid fool did all his own dirty work?"

Torio sank to her knees again, "You were his apprentice."

"Damn right I was his apprentice," the ranger said, "And it all makes sense now, too, that Dayven knew to come get me the morning after Kyla was killed, to turn me into an assassin like him. That Dayven was the first to know that she was dead. He was the one who killed her, on your command!

"And all this time, Addie!" he exclaimed, "I was annoyed by the fact that you'd been the one to kill Evendyn, that revenge had been yours and not mine..."

"I don't believe you!" Torio exclaimed.

"Evendyn Claven I summon you!" Adahni cried, rising to her feet. The symbols scrawled on the flagstone floor in her blood began to glow red, and a mist swirled across the floor of the basement like it had in the netherworld to which she and Jerro had gone in search of the shade that she now summoned. The mist swirled into a cyclone the height of a man before her, and as the mist dissipated, the ghostly form of Torio's husband stood before her.

"What manner of magic is this?" Torio bellowed, "What illusions have you woven to torment me?"

"You!" Evendyn's spirit howled in Adahni's face, "I told you we had unfinished business. And now you've brought me to this world, you foolish little creature..."

"Don't you miss your wife?" Adahni asked, "I've brought her here. To see you."

"Kailana?" Evendyn exclaimed, and turned, looking for his first wife. When his phantom gaze fell upon Torio, he heaved a sigh of disappointment. By now all the blood had drained from Torio's face as she looked upon her husband's shade.

"You hold no power in this world, Evendyn," Adahni said, "Not anymore."

"A curse on you," the shade hissed, "It was you who murdered me, who put this knife in my forehead."

"It was a very good throw, you must admit," Adahni said, "There, show your wife, look at what impeccable aim I have!"

"You..." Torio said.

"Not all of us could afford to just sing in alehouses, Torio. Some of us had harder lives than you. And yet, somehow, one of us is the lady of this manor, and one of us is just a conniving snake who is about to get what is coming to her."

"She murdered me," Evendyn hissed at Torio, "She murdered me, and then her accomplice here cut out my heart and put it in a rosewood box. He _mutilated _me. Avenge me, Torio, my love..."

"In a rosewood box..." Torio said, her face going a sickly shade of green, "Evendyn's heart in a rosewood box."

"You must avenge me, my love," he said, "You must!"

"Evendyn Claven!" Adahni shouted. She spat on the floor, and used the heel of her boot to smear the symbols she had written, "Go back from whence you came!"

"Now what?" Torio asked, "What else are you going to do to me?"

"Nothing," Adahni said, "I'm done. You're free to leave. Or do whatever it is you want. I'm done with you."

She put the torch back in its sconce on the way out. Bishop followed her, leaving Torio and her bruised face and mangled hand alone in the basement.

"How do you feel?" asked Adahni.

"Better than ever," Bishop said, "I avenged my sister' death?"

"What?"

"All this time we thought it was Evendyn who'd done it," Bishop said, "And it wasn't. It was Dayven. I killed Dayven, not you. I avenged Kyla."

"All these years, that's what bothered you?"

"Of course it bothered me," Bishop said, "You'd killed my sister's murderer, when it should have been my job. But now..."

"So all is right with the world?" she asked.

"Well, not all," Bishop said, "But we're getting there. Have I told you how incredibly beautiful you are when you're beating someone to a bloody pulp?"

"It does bring out my color, doesn't it?" she remarked, blushing a little, "I've got some business to attend to. Something about some relic of the Ironfists and a red dragon or some such nonsense. Are you all right left to your own devices?"

"Quite," Bishop said. They parted ways at the top of the staircase.

* * *

One of the Greycloaks found Torio's body broken at the foot of the highest tower. Nobody had any idea how she'd gotten out of her cell. They sent her body back to Luskan without fanfare. It seemed that, by that time, nobody at all cared.


	84. The Lonesome Death of Sydney Natale

"When I was knighted, I never thought it would involve this much paperwork," Adahni grumbled. Torio had been dead for three days or so. Nobody suspected a thing. Her broken ribs and fingers were chalked up to the jump she had taken from the keep. Only Casavir expressed any compassion for the fallen ambassador, and Adahni suspected that he only said so because it irritated the ranger. Adahni was seated, as was her wont, at the desk, going over forms that required her signature and seal. Kana stood over her, indicating where she needed to put her name.

"It's only a formality," Kana assured her, "Once I had your authorization for these shipments you won't ever have to think about it again."

"I'd like that in writing," Addie sighed.

"You've a visitor from Luskan, by the way," Kana said slyly, as Adahni handed her the last of the forms, "One Khralver Irlingstar, assistant to the new ambassador. He claims it is urgent. I wonder, though, how urgent it could be if Mistress Natale could not make it herself."

"Luskan ambassadors don't fare well within these walls," Adahni said, ominously.

"Torio's suicide wasn't your fault, Addie," Kana said, thinking that she was reassuring the knight-captain.

_What a clever facade I've put up, _Adahni thought, "Yes, yes, I know. She was a sad person, I suppose. Send Irlingstar in, I might as well hear what he has to say."

Kana nodded, left, and returned with the mousy looking man that had accompanied Sydney Natale the day after the incident at the Moonstone Mask. It had not occurred to her that he was the same man who had been Torio's lapdog. He'd found himself a new mistress, she saw. She made a mental note never to turn her back on him. He might look like a quivering little rabbit of a man, but she remembered what he had been willing to do on his mistress's bidding.

"Oh, most noble Lady of Crossroad Keep, Hero of Neverwinter!" he intoned, "Your adventures are already becoming legendary."

"Skip ahead to the part where you tell me what you want."

"Sydney Natale wishes to meet with you to share information she has obtained regarding a weakness of the Shadow Reavers."

"Now there's a piece of good news," Adahni said, "All right, hand it over."

"No, she wishes to meet with you and certain of your companions that she believes can make the most use of the information she intends to provide."

"Then why isn't she here?" Adahni asked, "And why does even the most simple task always seem to involve something incredibly inconvenient?"

"She has a secret she is keeping even from her brethren in the Hosttower. She wishes to have a clandestine meeting at a neutral location, away from the prying eyes of Luskan, Neverwinter, and Crossroad Keep. I cannot tell you where exactly, you'll need to follow me, along with that talented girl from the academy... Qara, and the gith zerai."

Adahni nodded slightly, "Very well. I will send for them presently. However, if this is a trap, I assure you I will not kill you quickly. You're not fooling me, Irlingstar, and I would point you to what happened to your last mistress as a clue to your fate if you fuck with me."

"I have absolutely no intention of fucking with you, Lady Farishta," Irlingstar, replied, looking her calmly in the eye, his voice steady, "Send for your companions."

They rode out under an azure sky. Qara, glad to be away from the kitchens, was silent and did not complain once or, indeed, question why she was summoned. The gith was similarly quiet. Adahni kept mental notes of the landscape as they left the road and ventured into the forest. An hour or so from the keep, they came to a clearing surrounded on three sides by high rocky outcroppings. If they were to be attacked, they would be cornered. Khralver dismounted, and gallantly offered the three women a hand down from their mounts.

"This should be the place."

"This looks like a dead end," Qara observed.

"Not to worry. Mistress Natale will be joining us momentarily."

As if on cue, the corpulent ambassador appeared from the forest, her robes of state quite out of place in the midst of the wilderness. She had bramble scratches on both hands and burrs in her white hair. Adahni stifled a snicker.

"Khralver, leave us," she said. Khralver obeyed, melting into the woods. Adahni noticed for the first time the seedy-looking bodyguard that Natale had with her, a broadshouldered lout bearing two blades. He wasn't an assassin. Adahni could have sworn she recognized him as the boy who used to sweep the streets in front of the butcher's shop in the Luskan docks.

"Heh," he grunted, "Don't wet yourself, dog."

"Jalboun, enough," the ambassador chided him, "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me... Captain, and you, Zhjaeve, and Qara. Your father is a mage of the Academy, yes?"

"Yes," Qara replied, please at the attention, "But we're not that much alike."

"I'll say," Jalboun snickered, "You're a dainty one. You look to weight a stone and two pebbles. Am I right?"

"You'll be able to judge for yourself when I'm standing on top of your charred body."

"Jalboun!" Sydney barked.

"What? Just trying to make conversation with the fiery one, but turns out she's cold as the nethers of Icewind Dale."

"I hired you for your brawn, not your tongue," Sydney scolded him.

"Heh, yes, _sir_! I'll just stand here and be a good lummox, you'll see."

"I'm sorry I had to send Khralver to fetch you. I would have come to Crossroad Keep myself, but too many eyes follow my movements."

"Why did you come to me instead of Nasher?" Adahni asked.

"A visit to Nasher's court would have drawn too much attention. I came to see you because you nad your companions seem to be at the forefront of this conflict. As such, there is no need for intermediaries, and unfortunately, that is what Nasher has become. I prefer speaking to those who act, not delegate."

The praise tasted sweet from Hosttower mage. "Do you know of True Names?" Sydney asked, "I've brought a scroll containing the true names of each of the Shadow Reavers. The Hosttower of the Arcane keeps a record of the true names of all its members, to use against them should they ever violate their contracts."

_I see why Sand wanted to stay far, far away from this business, _Adahni thought, filing that information away for later, "So why didn't you use it against Garius?"

"Garius and his supporters had all of Luskan wrapped round his finger up until he conducted the ritual, and by then it was too late. After the ritual the Arcane Brotherhood tried to use the True Names of Garius and the others, but they didn't work. They have ascended from their mortal forms and become... something else. Since they could no longer control Garius, the Hosttower was quick to divorce itself of any involvement with Garius and his constituents. The True Names I retrieved were among the records to be purged... just in time, in fact."

"Well what good are they if they don't work?" Adahni asked, growing increasingly impatient.

"The Hosttower _assumed _they were useless, but I suspected otherwise. My intuiation is rarely wrong in such matters and it has kept me alive many times. I performed a divination on the True Names and they revealed a link. Unfortunately, I don't have the lore to decipher the results. I would like the gith to examine this."

Zhjaeve took the scroll that Torio proferred and scanned it quickly. "I can read these," the gith said, "And I believe that they can be of use to us. Knowing the name of a being gives one power over it, and could weaken the Reavers enough to kill them."

"So you could read these names aloud?"

"The recitation is difficult, but I can give these voice."

"Then you are of use to me," Sydney Natale said shortly. Adahni eyed her suspiciously, wondering exactly what her angle was. It was answered immediately, when Sydney signaled to her bodyguard, "You, Adahni, are not."

"Oh for fuck's sake. What's the point of eliminating me?"

"The Hosttower does not negotiate or ally themselves with anyone. We take what we wish. I have no need of you and have no care for whether you live or die."

"If you care so little, then why expend the energy?" Adahni asked, but she had already drawn her blade, "And why is Qara here?"

"Ah Qara, you would be a treasure to keep... if circumstances were not otherwise."

"That doesn't make any fucking sense, Natale," Adahni snarled, "Nobody has any respect for the language..."

"If you're going to kill us, go on and try it, you bitch," Qara challenged, "Before your perfume does the job for you."

"Oh, Qara," Natale laughed, "I won't bother with you myself. I'll let my servant finish the job, as was intended."

"What are you talking about?" Qara asked, lowering her eyebrows.

"My dear, the Hosttower has been promised your father's entire Academy as servants to train as we see fit. The only price is that we deal with you …. permanently. It's really something we can't pass up... even considering your natural talent. It is a waste of such potential. But, it is best to quench a fire before it grows out of control."

Sydney spread her hands wide, and a swirl of black magic was conjured on the ground before her, slowly materializing into a black specter with red glowing eyes.

"What is that thing?" Qara asked.

"An animus elemental," Adahni replied, "Hit it and it will go down."

Qara nodded, drawing together bits of magic between her hands as the elemental bore down on Adahni. She was really a poor choice of target, she thought. Qara and the gith were barely armored at all, while Adahni was a veritable fortress of chainmail. Qara's missiles stunned the conjuration, and it stepped back, giving Adahni space to smash it to black smithereens with her blade.

"I... had not thought it possible," Sydney Natale said, the blood draining from her face, "You have defeated it. Destroyed it, utterly."

"Adahni Farishta does not negotiate. She cares not whether you live or die," Adahni said, repeating the mage's words back at her.

"Jalboun!" Sydney barked, "Earn your pay and slay them!"

"You don't want to do that, friend," Adahni said, "I'll double whatever she's paying you."

"Sold. Been wanting to clobber this bitch since we left Luskan," the bodyguard said, greening toothily and flourishing his two blades.

"You traitorous wretch!" Sydney squeaked.

Adahni shrugged, "Mercenaries. Can't live with 'em..." She stuck her blade behind her, under one arm, and felt it connect with something living and barely armored that groaned and gurgled as she pulled it free, "And of course you'd bring assassins," she scoffed, withdrawing her blade and hearing the man she had just slain fall with a thud to the ground, "Gods you Luskans are so predictable."

Despite her brash words, she was nervous about this battle, but had no time to dwell on it before another assassin had materialized behind the her surprise, her newly hired mercenary threw himself into his work, and the assassin quickly found himself without a head. In the tussle, she lost track of the ambassador, but evidently Qara located her, charging through armies of necromantic origin to sling fireball after fireball at the mage. Adahni shouted orders to the gith to make sure the sorceress didn't fall, and to Jalboun to protect her from the summoned creature.

Angry Qara turned out to be unstoppable. She slung spell after spell, and when she ran out she resorted to chasing after the cowering mage and beating her with what Adahni saw later was a broomstick she must have lifted from the kitchen. And that was how, battered and bruise, Sydney Natale drew her last breath.

"Good riddance," Jalboun sniffed, "Though your redhaired friend is a little scary."

"That bitch didn't have the power to stop us," Qara declared, wiping a streak of Natale's blood from where it had spattered her face. "And those reavers won't either."

"Despite this ambush, this battle has worked in our favor. These True Names are a weapon we can use against the reavers... we should return to the Keep with them at once."

"Hey, what about my payment?" Jalboun insisted, drawing one of his blades. Adahni seriously doubted he would turn on them, having seen what they were capable of, "You owe me a thousand gold pieces."

"Ugh... well I obviously don't have it _on _me. Do I look like I'm carrying a thousand gold pieces? Come back to the keep with us, I'll see that you're paid. Actually... with the way you use those blades, I might be able to find a use for you on a permanent basis."

"You... you mean it? Yeah, that would be nice. As long as it's something military, a position where I'll be respected. Not eager to be a lackey again."

"I'll find something for you," she said, "Head back with us, and I'll talk to Kana about finding you something to do."

She was amazed at how quickly the man's manner changed. All of his "wit" wore right off, and he snapped her a salute. "Yes sir! Right away! You won't regret this!"

"Hope you're right about that, Sergeant," Adahni said, "Run along, we don't have a mount for you. And I'd like to track down that wretch Irlingstar before we head back. I have some limbs I would like to relieve him of."

Qara looked at her wide-eyed, "Really?"

"Nah," Adahni said, "But I we run across him I'd like you to burn him."

"I'm good at that!" she said.

"Yes yes, we know, it's about all you're good at, anyway," Adahni said. She felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. She wasn't quite sure how the girl felt, knowing that her own father had contracted away that which he held dearest in order to have her murdered, "But you're all right, Qara. You're all right."

"So're you," the sorceress replied, "Sometimes."

"All right, enough of this mushy shit. Let's head back to the Keep. You've washed your last dish, Qara, I'd like you to join Aldanon on his search for the Tome of Iltkazar."

Qara nodded, smiling slightly, and mounted up, "Thank you."

"Not a problem," Adahni said, "Just don't become more trouble than you're worth,


	85. Wildflowers in Autumn

They returned to the Keep after the sun had dipped below the mountains to the west and the towers cast long groping shadows in the orange light. Adahni shivered. Since the Harvest Fair the days had been growing colder, and dimmer, though she was not sure how much of it was the growing power of the King of Shadows and how much was the natural descent into the dark of winter. She pulled her cloak about her, and was grateful when she returned to her room to discover that someone had been there before her and lit a fire in the fireplace. The stonemasons had filled in most of the chinks in the walls with mortar, but still, they were stone and took on the chill of the air something awful. She stripped down to her underclothes and washed the blood of Luskan assassins off as she had Gods knew how many times before. She dug in the bottom of the wardrobe for a woolen dress to stave off the worst of the cold.

Her hand hit something she wasn't expecting as she rummaged through a chest that she'd brought without opening it from the Sunken Flagon. She got a hand on it, and giggled. It was the book she'd given to Casavir, the previous winter, the book that had led him to seek her counsel, which had lead to Vania...

She pulled it from under her winter clothes, and frowned. It was not her book, but another, similarly bound, but smaller. An appointment book of the sort that important nobles and merchant kept in order to keep their affairs sorted. She realized all of a sudden to whom it had belonged, but her heart didn't sink as she thought it would have. It was the appointment book that had been found with Dayven's things, the night after Bishop had slain him in the stands of the tourney grounds. Instead of dread, her fingers prickled with curiosity. She pulled on a brown woolen dress to cover her near nakedness, sat crosslegged on the bearskin rug before the fire, and opened it.

It was a diary of sorts. She remembered the spidery handwriting from the love letters he had sent her that year that he had left her to go seeking his fortune in Luskan. She'd burned them soon after she limped back into Daeghun's house, but seeing the way he wrote now recalled the thrill at breaking the wax seals on the scrolls in secret and reading her lover's writing. She found herself, for the first time, laughing at herself, her naivety, without regret. She flipped through the first few pages. Names, dates, observations on the murders. It was chilling, of course, but she no longer felt the weight of it on her own shoulders. She then ran the pages through her fingers, looking up specific dates. It looked as though he'd had his initiation before she'd come out to Luskan... the burning of the village of Redfallows Watch, a border town north of Barnslow. It'd been larger than Barnslow, and Nasher had personally dispatched his Nine to route the assassins and put out the fires that consumed the poor villagers in their beds. The next entries were mundane. Gang leaders. A Hosttower Mage that was getting out of line. The dates spanned the time she had run away with him to the Luskan Docks, and were quickly creeping up on times when she had interacted with him in a more... professional capacity. She took a deep breath, and found the first night she'd seen him in action.

Mackrem Cullygan, age five and thirty. Pirate. Halfling wretch escaped me, stupid Addie got in my way. That's the last time I try to assassinate someone in the Cuckoo's Nest. I forgot how protective Mistress Kath is of her customers, and how deadly the dear girl is with a knife.

Ha! thought Adahni, So he thinks it was Kath as put me up to it! She thanked her lucky stars she'd saved the little pirate's life. He was a useful ally to have, something both she and Sand had recognized at various times in their lives. Now the halfling was twice indebted to her, once for his own hide, once for the safety of his home village of Leeves. She steeled herself and looked to verify information she'd been given. And if he didn't kill Kyla? she thought, If it was just Torio blowing smoke up your ass, and Evendyn did kill her, will you tell Bishop? She thought on it a second. Bishop seemed to have been tempered, somewhat, over the time they had known each other as adults. Nearly a year now, she thought, since he'd been coerced into escorting them over the Luskan border and back. They'd known each other not even a month before he'd invited himself on her and Duncan's jaunt to Westharbor. And then they'd been thrown together into the hot water resulting from the slaughter at Ember. Still, she thought, perhaps it was better not to tell him if it turned out Torio had been lying. His face had been so relaxed after his realization of how squarely things had fallen into place.

Kyla Bishop, age eight and twenty. Prostitute. It is not without regret that I follow Mistress Claven's orders. Normally I would reject the job, it is only a side gig after all, but the Master of Assassins has had his eye on the boy - do I call him her brother, or her son? - for years. He's getting too old, and he must come to us of his own accord, as all assassins must. Mistress Claven has requested it and the Master has commanded it. I have no choice. Creep into her room once the mistress's husband has left. Snap her neck. I can send Addie in to take care of the brother-son. She is really such a dear, gullible thing.

Adahni felt the hair at the back of her neck rise with indignation. He'd allowed himself to fall in with assassins, be pulled under by Cyric's Madness, and she was the gullible one!

Well yes, she thought, she was. He'd fallen under the spell of the drug, but she had continued stay by his side, take his beatings, whore herself to keep him alive, all the while he didn't respect her enough to tell her what was going on. He'd thought her the dear sweet farm girl from Westharbor that he'd seduced along the banks of the Mere on lazy summer. And I suppose that's who I'd be, if he hadn't taken me, she thought, He took that dear sweet farm girl and turned her into a shrewd and calculating bitch. And for that, I suppose, I ought to thank him!

Still, the final one was the hardest. Two years hence, near the end of the summer.

The heart of the whore he sleeps with tonight. Oh Gods, of all the whores on the Luskan docks, why did he have to pick her?

Adahni Elhandrien, age three and twenty. My wife. Prostitute, but not by her own fault. I almost cannot bear it. I don't suppose I will miss her. She's grown cold these last years. She doesn't scream when I hit her anymore, she just looks at me with those yellow eyes of hers. She doesn't cry anymore. She just looks at me. But none of it was her fault, was it. It was all me. She did used to sing so prettily.

I could not bear it. I am a dreadful coward, now too. I could not bear those cold yellow eyes just staring at me as the life drained from them. So I sent Bishop. The boy is near a man now, taller than I, and more ruthless even without Cyric's Madness. It was not I that did this to him. He was conceived during an act of ultimate evil. We have merely shaped him into an effective killer. Without us, he would be torturing whores like Evendyn Claven. He was evil from his conception, and so will he be. It is simply his nature. I'll not be able to look him in the eye again, knowing that I sent him to murder my wife, and he has done it.

I wonder if he feels regret, as I do.

There was a long while between entries after that. They became more erratic, not simply an orderly list of victims and reasons why, descriptions of techniques, as they had been. They became recounts of dreams that he had had, mostly nightmares populated by Adahni herself, and sometimes his apprentice Bishop. Adahni found herself almost feeling sorry for him as the spidery handwriting descended into the scribblings of a madman. It was an oddly clear entry that came that previous winter, a night that Adahni had spent in front of a campfire in Solace Glade, in the company of a farmer turned soldier.

Adahni Farishta, age four and twenty. Squire of Neverwinter. My wife. The boy's betrayal has been twice over this whole time and I never knew it. What has he done with her, I wonder, that she is a Squire of Neverwinter sitting for her rite in the glade? And why? Some misplaced boyish crush on the first woman who held him as wasn't both his mother and his sister? Or did he long to make me look the fool, only to murder our brothers before my eyes? And whose heart did I hand to Torio that night? I shudder to think on it, should she ever discover just who was the last whore her husband bedded... or didn't bed. I'd reveal it myself, end the whole debaucle... Addie, a Squire! A penny-ante whore from the Luskan docks more like it! But... should Torio discover my oversight, and what happened after that... she'll have my head. No, no. I'll have to kill her, and then track down that wretch Kyrwan Bishop and kill him too.

"So you've finally brought yourself to take a look, have you," said that wretch Kyrwan Bishop, from where he had snuck up on her, as he'd done so many times before.

"You knew?" Adahni asked, looking up at him. He knelt beside her.

"I read the whole thing, cover to cover," he said, "I remembered Neeshka handing you his belongings, after the Trial by Combat. Seems everyone forgot about it but us."

"We were the only two with any interest in it, weren't we?" Adahni said, glumly.

"Well now you know too, don't you," he said, "They were after me the whole time."

"But they never truly got you, did they," Adahni said, "What's this here about you murdering your brothers? Is that what that young assassin was talking about the night they burned Leeves?"

"They never truly held me, like they had Dayven. I plotted it for weeks," Bishop replied, "There are few things that assassins respond to. Murder is one of them."

"And you killed them?"

Bishop nodded, staring past her into the fire.

"But not Dayven?"

"No," Bishop said, "I think he'd been expecting it, unlike the others. It's as though he saw something in me, he knew my heart did not lie with the Circle. He put an arrow in me, and fled." He took her hand and put it under the short sleeves of his jerkin to a knotty scar she'd seen on his shoulder, "I told you, we both have scars from Dayven Elhandrien."

"This is the last of his legacy," Adahni said, holding up the book, "Care to do the honors?"

"I'd be honored," Bishop said. She handed him the book, "Fuck you Dayven Elhandrien," he said, "If I could kill you twice I would."

"Cheers!" Adahni exclaimed, and Bishop chucked the book unceremoniously on the flames, "Maybe now he'll stop haunting my dreams..." They both wrinkled their noses as the paper curled and blacked and the acrid smell of the ink drifted into the air.

"You are sleeping with his wife," Adahni said, mildly, "That's as good a reason to haunt a man's dreams as any."

"His widow," Bishop corrected her, "One whom I have not seen in several days, mind you. I was hoping you'd join me for a drink."

"Gods know I could use a stiff one," she sighed, "But yes, a drink would be lovely."

Bishop chuckled, "Good. With Neeshka and Khelgar off with their respective sweethearts, I've got nobody to drink with besides the Paladin, and you know how famously we two get along."

Adahni chuckled, rising and pulling on her boots , "What about the gnome?"

"Grobnar?" Bishop asked, "He's been spending a lot of time out in the village outside."

"Really," Adahni said, "Some fair halfling lass catch his eye?"

"Really, Addie, a lass?"

"Good point," Adahni conceded.

"Milo Delving, captain of the halfling guard."

"That were so effective against the assassins..." she muttered, letting Bishop pin her cloak about her shoulders with a jade brooch.

"Not everyone's as bad-ass as we are, Addie," he said, "Come on, every minute wasted is another pint of beer consumed by Khelgar that we can then not have ourselves. Bring your mandolin."

Adahni chuckled again, feeling suddenly spry despite the chill on the air. She handed her mandolin to Bishop to carry, and skipped out into the courtyard. On a whim, she turned a cartwheel, and then a handspring, her callused hands sure of themselves on the cobblestones. She heard the ranger start after her, probably sure she was going to miss a landing and break her neck, but she managed to get all the way down the hill without hurting herself. Right side up again, she stood still a moment, waiting for the world to arrange itself into some form that she could make sense of. There was the Phoenix Tail Inn, there was the guard tower, there was the cottage that Casavir and Vania rented, and there... in the garden... was Casavir himself. She hadn't spoken with him since Neeshka's wedding when his wife had returned from Neverwinter, and he was sitting by himself in his shirtsleeves on a bench, staring at a flowerbed. There had been such lovely roses there in the summer, but the gardeners had cut back the bushes as autumn slowly crept over the land. Still, though, a cluster of sweet williams bloomed, a deep crimson against the brown foliage. She approached him slowly, and sat beside him. He didn't look up at her, and she saw he held a letter in his hands. The ranger arrived at the bottom of the hill at this point, and he approached the two of them, but said nothing.

"See," he said, gesturing at the flowerbed, "See how the wildflower still blooms bright after the roses have faded."

"Are you all right, Cas?" she asked him.

"I will be," he said, still not looking up.

"It's a foolish man that prefers roses to wildflowers," Bishop commented, "And appreciates the latter only when the former have died with the seasons."

Adahni expected the paladin to become angry, but he only looked back at the flowerbed, and the brilliance of the sweet williams that blazed defiantly even as the cultivated flowers had withered. He nodded slowly, "Aye," he said, "A foolish man indeed."

"She's not coming back, is she?" Adahni said, genuinely sorry for the paladin.

"No," he said, "She's returned to Neverwinter, to her brother's family. They have forgiven her, and can provide her with the lifestyle she had become accustomed to. She asked me to come with her."

"You do know that you are free to leave, Cas," Adahni said quietly.

"No, no," Casavir said, "I have made my choice. This threat to our land will not dissipate if I return to Neverwinter. My place is here, my lady, by your side. "

"And the place is yours so long as you desire it," she replied, patting his shoulder reassuringly.

"So long as you are able to hold it," the ranger corrected her.

"I don't seem to remember asking you," she said, gently reprimanding him. He didn't seem to take it gently, though, and set his mouth in a bitter line, turned tail, and stalked into the inn.

"Please, my lady," Casavir said, "Leave me to my thoughts."

She nodded, and rose. She briefly stretched out her hand and ran it through his hair, which showed more gray than it had before now, as he had done to her many times. For the second time that night, she marveled at how her heart did not ache as it would have in the past. She smiled a bit at this realization, and went into the inn. Neeshka and Cormick, along with Khelgar and Helvynn, were seated at a table, and raised their tankards to her as she passed. She smiled, and waved. Bishop was sulking into a tumbler of whiskey at the bar, evidently sore about their interactions with the paladin.

Adahni pulled up a stool next to him and sat down. He didn't look at her.

"Bishop," she said.

"What do you want?" he muttered.

She took his chin in her hand, pulled him to her, and kissed him full on the mouth for all the Keep to see.


	86. The Final Shard

Crossroad Keep was not a large place. Even counting the peasants in the surrounding farms and the villages on the outskirts on Adahni's lands, the population of the place was barely more an a thousand. Within the walls of the Keep, numbers were even fewer. As such, word spread like wildfire through the Greycloaks and staff members at the keep of the Captain's paramour. However, like most rumors, it was superseded soon by news that one of the Halfling farmers had grown a pumpkin as large as a fire giant, and soon that became the most interesting thing happening at the keep.

Of the companions, only Casavir seemed to care, and even he seemed have learned enough to keep his mouth shut. Only Sal the bartender saw any inkling of the paladin's feelings on the matter, and then, only on the rare occasion that the austere man was deep in his cups. He did, however, attach himself to Adahni's side in an almost garish display of loyalty, refusing to allow her to leave on any missions without his mace. Even, she observed, tolerating the ranger to a degree that Addie found amusing and Bishop found downright infuriating. The two never came to blows, though privately Adahni felt that that ranger deserved fist to the face several times.

"I mean, really," Neeshka – Mrs. Lainsford - said of the whole affair, "Like any of us were surprised. If Shandra, gods rest her soul, were around, I'm sure she'd have won this bet as well."

* * *

The autumn wore on slowly, and Adahni developed a severe case of cabin fever cooped up behind her desk all day. She began leaving more and more to Kana, and taking it upon herself to go out and hunt down whatever nasty little beasties were haunting her outlying villages and plaguing the roads of her keep. It had become routine – every morning, Adahni would go out on patrol with a varying group of her companions, to hunt down bandits, wolves, ogres, what have you. The day that the first frost came upon the fields, Adahni, the ranger, the paladin, and Ammon Jerro, who had grown a terrible dislike of being indoors and volunteered constantly to put his tattooed skin on the line if it meant not being confined in stone walls – had tracked down a particularly nasty bandit who had been making life difficult in one of the outlying villages. They had found the bandit camp, thanks to Bishop's talents at tracking, and while going through the chests upon chests of gold, the necromancer froze, stood straight up, and sniffed the air.

"What's going on?" Adahni asked, casting about quickly. The forest, which had turned a glorious fiery gold as the leaves changed, was quiet, but she felt a creeping dread enter her stomach.

"There's nothing there," Bishop growled, "I would have heard anything a mile off. This place is fortified – located where any intruders can be spotted."

"Shut up," the necromancer rumbled, "There's something not of this world on the air."

The ranger obeyed, having learned to leave well enough alone where dark magic was involved. Adahni felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up and a chill go scurrying up her spine as she saw what looked like nothing more than a dark patch – an absence of light – crawl slowly up the hill where the camp was located.

"Shadow Reaver," Ammon Jerro growled. Zhjaeve had given him the True Names, as the only other well-versed enough in the otherworldly arts to be able to read it, and Adahni saw him reach into his trousers and pull the parchment out of his pocket.

The shadow came closer, and materialized into the great, nine-foot-tall fiend with a skull where his head ought to be. Out of nowhere, it produced a spear, long and barbed and dripping with something green, magical, and probably painful. Behind the reaver materialized another creature, one that Adahni had seen before, a great wrought iron automaton with rusty blades for hands. The paladin placed himself between these creatures and her, taking his mace from its place on his back. The ranger stepped back, knocking an arrow to his bow, and Adahni drew her rapier, though it looked puny and pitiful next to the weapons of the evil that stood before them.

The Shadow Reaver laughed, the eerie light that shone from his eye sockets bobbing and his jawbone flapping and grinning. "You should have learned," his voice echoed, coming from deep within his ribcage where Adahni assumed whatever magic that animated him dwelled. Of course, she though, he has not voicebox. Whatever dark force manipulated the bones with no muscles must also give him voice. She wondered, if Jerro read his true name, could she simply thrust her sword through whatever was making him move, like she could through the heart of a living creature? "I cannot be destroyed. Yield now, and I shall make your end quick. Defy me, and you shall die for days."

Adahni said nothing for a moment, searching his ragged robes for any sort of inkling of where it was coming from. There, a flash of greenish light where a person's stomach would be. She smiled.

"I defeated you once," she said, "I can defeat you again."

"In Castle Never, you had the advantages of surprise and greater numbers. Here those advantages are mine," the Shadow Reaver said, again, the movement of his robes betraying his weakness.

"Just keep me alive until the recitation is complete," Ammon Jerro whispered hoarsely. He looked down at the parchment, and began to recite. His whisper had not been soft enough for the Reaver not to hear him, and with a wave of one bony hand, it conjured shadows from the forest which stalked in towards the companions.

Bishop let loose his arrow, but it past through the undead creatures without doing any harm. He swore, and fired the next one at the blade golem. Thanks to some creative weaponmaking by Edario, the Keep's blacksmith, the acid on the arrows was of a sort that would not corrode the stone arrowtips. However, it was very effective on the iron golem, and soon the automaton was sporting a gaping hole where one bladed limb used to be. Meanwhile, Casavir knelt and prayed, summoning down light from the heavens that made the shadows shriek and shrivel. Adahni kept close by Ammon's side, as the Shadow Reaver charged them. The ranger and paladin threw themselves at the ghoulish creature, battering it with knife and mace to no avail. Shattered bones reformed themselves, and Adahni dodged the barbed spear again and again as Jerro's voice rose from a quiet murmur to a bellow.

"_Arinyi bin leven panas!_" Ammon shouted, glaring up at the Reaver with his reddish eyes. The Shadow Reaver reared back, his jawbone dropping as he shrieked and the light behind his eye sockets turning from blue to red.

"His stomach, Bishop!" she cried, and the ranger, for once not questioning her order, sent an arrow there. Like a water skin pierced with a needle, green light began pouring out of the skeleton, at first a trickle, and then a torrent. It came out, rising into the air with an unearthly moan, and dissipated into the night sky. Then the flow slowed to a trickle again, and then drops, and then, with a low sound of bone on bone, the Shadow Reaver fell to pieces before them. In the pile of bones, Adahni saw, was another silver shard. She picked it up, finding it eerily warm to the touch, and put it in her pack to join with the others.

"Another shard," Casavir observed, "I wonder how many of these we will need to collect until we can reforge the sword that the gith priestess is always talking about."

"Well we still don't know how to do that, now do we," Adahni grumbled, fingering her chest where another shard lay buried in her sternum.

"Once we figure it out, it will be the only weapon that can harm the King of Shadows," the necromancer said.

"You sound fairly confident that we'll be able to do that," Adahni sighed.

"Well, if we can't, we're all fucked aren't we," Bishop said, "Might as well plan for the best."

"Why Bishop," Adahni said, "I never figured you for an optimist."

The ranger rolled his eyes, and started down the path which would lead them back home.

Back at the keep, they went straightaway to seek out the Githzerai priestess where she was meditating in the old stone church. Adahni related briefly what had happened, with a few interruptions from the necromancer, but between the two of them they got out the story. The gith blinked her pale blue eyes languorously and looked at the shard that Addie bore.

"So the name made it vulnerable," Zhjaeve said, "And you've recovered another shard on the body."

"Yes," Adahni said, "That is what I just told you."

"Know that other pieces of the blade are mission... but I think with this shard we know have enough," the gith said.

"And how do you know this?" Jerro asked suspiciously.

"I simply know," the priestess answered. Adahni suspected she knew how much her ethereal tone annoyed the necromancer and was basking in his irritation. She took a breath, and slowly continued, "But the pieces are not enough. I still do not understand how the sword was broken in the first place. Was it the power of the avatar of the King of Shadows? I was not there when it shattered, so I do not know."

"Any thoughts, Jerro?" Adahni asked.

"I would offer them if I had them. But you are right to ask me. At least I speak plainly, unlike the Gith. I was too busy being detained on the Lower Planes after the battle with the avatar... and have had little time since then to discover how the blade was broken." The necromancer fell silent for a moment, closing his eyes as his tattoos blazed brighter, as they often did when he was deep in thought. He opened them again, and looked directly at Addie, "But... there is one who has had much time to consider it, and knows something of the King of Shadows."

"This better not be Grobnar," Adahni muttered.

"The King of Shadows has had many enemies. In the distant past, he fought an ancient dragon by the name of Nolaloth, and their battle spanned the planes. Nolaloth was defeated, unfortunately."

"So, you're telling us to go in search of a dragon, who is in all likelihood, dead," Bishop said, "Please tell me you're joking."

"He was struck down, but his spirit was chained to this realm by the Illefarn Empire until they could find a way to heal him. He was their mercenary, you see, but neither he nor the Illefarn were able to give the other what they needed... Nolaloth was defeated, and so were the Illefarn."

"And you waited until now to tell me about this? Anything else you're hiding?" Bishop asked.

"Nolaloth held little else of value concerning the King of Shadows – or so I thought until the Gith confirmed that this is the last shard."

"Suspicion is something you know well, Ammon," Zhjaeve countered, "Know that I, too, have suspicions concerning sudden revelations... such as this dragon you have suddenly cast light upon."

"I think both of you could be a little more forthcoming," Adahni said.

"At some point, you will all need to trust my reasons if we are to get through this," Ammon said, his voice tense.

"It is not a question of trust, I think," Zhjaeve commented pettily.

"In any event, this information may prove useless. The last time Nolaloth and I spoke, we did not part on friendly terms. He has little reason to help us, or me. I inquired after information to defeat the King of Shadows, and Nolaloth wished more than I could give...at the time." he added cryptically.

"If this Nolaloth knows how the blade is broken, then that is knowledge we must have," Casavir added, decisively if unnecessarily, "Tell use where we can find him."

"I can give you Nolaloth's location, but its not an easy journey. In the past, Nolaloth had many guardians... red dragons, all of whom infest the area where he is chained. He is something of a... legend in their eyes, and they make the pilgrimage to bask in his presence, and perhaps to steal secretes of the ancient Illefarn ruins where he resides."

Adahni smiled and, for the first time in awhile, breathed a jet of flame into the air, laughing. "I fear no red dragons," she said.

"He is up in the mountains, north of Old Owl Well. Allow me to accompany you to your war room and I will show you the location on a map," Jerro said, "And I am sure, at least, your gith follower will wish to accompany you."

"Certainly better than you being there," Adahni said, "Seeing as you managed to piss him off so soundly beforehand. And we'd best head out soon, no more than a day. It's getting colder, and the tops of mountains aren't exactly known for their tropical climates."

"I will accompany you," Casavir declared, his tone of voice announcing that there would be no stopping him – if she ordered him to stay he would simply follow the band up into the mountains on his own.

"You'd best take me as well, then," Bishop said, "To make up for his deadweight."

The two men glared at each other, but the paladin did not respond.

"We have several hours before nightfall," Adahni said, "Grab a tent, and tell Sand he's coming with us. Dragons tend to respond better to magic than to swords."


	87. More Regrets

Adahni and Ammon retreated into her war room, where one of her Greycloaks, who'd been a cartographer's apprentice in Highcliff before it had fallen, had painted a detailed map of the world based on her and her companions' observations. She kept the canvas stretched on a frame in the corner, and often found herself standing there, staring at it, hardly daring to believe that she herself had walked every corner of the the map sometimes, and others staring at the blank spaces in corners that had yet to be filled in. The necromancer strode up to it, squinting in the dim torchlight that licked the stone walls. Slowly, he raised is hand and pinpointed a place in the mountains, not far from where his haven, market by an intricate drawing of the Gates of Hell, lay.

"Many a winter's evening I spent by that mountain lake," Ammon said, gazing at the map.

"Talking to a long-dead dragon?" Adahni asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Well when you put it that way it makes me sound downright mad," Jerro said, smirking a little. He kept staring at the map, and the corners of his mouth fell slowly, "I suppose I am a little mad. All those years in the lower realms."

"How old are you, anyway?" Adahni asked, "You had a granddaughter in her thirties, but you yourself don't look a day over fifty."

"The Hells change people, twist people," he said, sighing heavily, "I may look not a day over fifty, when I held Shandra in my arms first, but the weight on my shoulders is that of a man of over one hundred. That is my curse, Adahni, to look strong and sinewy as an ox but feel frail as moth's wing. I cannot make the journey into the mountains, not this late in the year."

Adahni looked at the necromancer, the glow of his tattoos dimmer than usual, she could almost see the flame of his life flickering as a chill autumn wind blew in the open window.

"I am an old and man," he said, "Whether I look one or not." The wind blew again, and Adahni could have sworn that she saw the image of a gnarled, wizened, and whitebearded codger flash in front of the stalwart and redhaired Jerro.

She nodded, "I would not ask you along, in any case. It seems this Nolaloth would not appreciate your presence, if he indeed knows you as well as you say he does."

"He was my only company, some days. I dared not stray too far from my haven, but the magic of his valley would allow me to port between the places. Aside from the demons, he was my only source of comfort."

"Well isn't that touching," Adahni said, sarcastically. The curse of bards, she thought, the ability to force emotions from others with your music, is to constantly feel others' pain. She was sardonic to protect herself. She saw Jerro, a stout and strong man with a stooped old man's heart, sitting, conversing with the ghost of a dragon, perhaps with a fire to warm his bones, and felt inexplicably sorry for him.

"You're a strange creature, Adahni Farishta," the necromancer observed, "A pigeon with the talons of a hawk."

Not knowing what to make of this comment, she shrugged, and left the room to pack some things for her journey. On horseback it would be a day or two, but once they entered the mountains, they might have to proceed on foot. Autumn had set in in earnest, and while some days were bright and warm as summer, on others the ground would be spiderwebbed with silver frost in the mornings. Firewood would be plenty though, and she'd a fine woolen cloak. She felt a comforting sense of nostalgia, thinking about how this was how it used to be - no inns, no fine things, just a ragged bunch of adventurers in the mountains, huddled in a tent for warmth. Back before they had enough gold to afford privacy and the awkwardness around others that that brought. It was mid-afternoon, the fingers of wan sunlight spreading across the courtyard when she gathered her group. The Gith priestess, scantily clad as always - Adahni had never quite figured out how she survived the elements, and the elf, who had acquired a thick cloak, were waiting expectantly in the shadow of one tower. The ranger arrived shortly after Adahni, and the paladin not long thereafter.

"No time like the present," Sand said mildly.

"Especially since I imagine you'll be slowing us down quite a bit, Master Elf," Bishop commented, "Please, try to keep up."

"It's going to be a long journey indeed if we're all in a foul mood, Bishop," Adahni said, "But you're right, we'd best make good time. It's only getting colder as we get higher up."

They mounted up on horses confiscated from a smuggler, and set out for Old Owl Well, the village and encampment that had been Casavir's stomping ground back when he was the _katalmach_ and terrorized the local orcs. It was also, she thought, the next to last home that Jem Quarely had made. Adahni thought fondly of him, remembering when she had Khelgar had gone to invite him to Casavir's wedding the previous Spring - had it truly only been half a year? It felt like a lifetime had passed since that night they had spent in the Moonstone Mask, and then the trial... and those scant few weeks that they had lived in sin in the lady's bedroom at Crossroad Keep. She remembered carrying the child that was his but not his, the way the baby's hair had smelled as she went to meet him. He'd looked so handsome, coming down out of the mountains, his brown hair tousled, his eyes so blue. It could have been that way, she thought. Little Jem with his swarthy complexion could have been her son. It could have been her and Jem, settled on a farmstead at Old Owl Well.

"You are sad, my lady," the paladin observed, and his voice startled her out of her fantasy.

"Not sad, Cas," she said, "There are things I am learning to remember without sadness. I was just thinking on how very different things could have turned out if only I'd taken one road over the other."

"Old Owl Well is where Jem Quarely lived," he said, "I imagine you think of him?" he said. She was a little alarmed had how readily he had read her thoughts, and also how loud he had spoken her dead lover's name in the presence his surviving cousin.

"I do, of course I do," Adahni said, sighing a bit, "I'd be cold-hearted indeed if I'd forgotten him so readily."

She saw a flicker of darkness pass over the paladin's features. He was thinking of how quickly she had fallen into another's bed. He didn't understand. How could he? Fortunately he knew better than to give voice to his judgment, and instead said, "Would that he had lived," again, loud enough for Bishop to hear them. The ranger, who was leading the odd little caravan, either did not hear or pretended not to.

"Would that many things had happened differently," Adahni said, attempting to address that which the paladin had left unsaid, "Jem was a good man and he's returned to his mother and brothers. I do him no service by mourning overlong." She thought of the night she had spent, sleeping, or half-sleeping, by his grave, and the odd dreams she'd had where he told her as much. _Did that happen? Or did I imagine it because it absolved me for Bishop?_

"Yes," Casavir said, "Would that many things had happened differently. Would that you had told me what you really thought of Vania from the very beginning. Perhaps things would have turned out differently, for us."

Her stomach sank. For a woman who had spent long years becoming unused to rebuffing advances, this was strange. The thought, though, made her sick to her stomach. She was not the woman she had been, and Bishop was not Dayven, only too pleased to see his woman serve up her charms on a silver platter to any man that could pay. _Why now, Casavir? After all of this time, why now?_ She laughed, though, a single tinkling tone. "Oh, Cas, if I had told you from the beginning, you would not have believed me. You would have thought me a jealous shrew."

"A shrew, my lady?" he said, raising his eyebrows, "No, my lady, not you. Improper, sometimes. With the mouth of a sailor, certainly. But if I've learned nothing else about you, it's that you are quite often right. I would have taken that into consideration."

"Well, you're a grown man, I trusted your judgment," Adahni replied, "You all of thirty-two, why you would need to guidance of a child like me I am not entirely sure."

Casavir chuckled, "No, no, my lady. I am a poor old fool and you ought to pity me."

She chuckled back, good-naturedly she hoped, "And who's to say I don't?"  
"The path of a paladin is a lonely one," he said, "I don't know why I thought that I would succeed in having a wife, where most others had failed."

"Aye, and you're not that old," Adahni said, "I'm sure there's a lady as would have you, as you are, not as she thinks you ought to be."

"I have met such women," Casavir said, "Even had the fortune to have one fall madly in love with me. Alas, I was too much of a fool to realize what I could have had."

Adahni, struck dumb, just stared at the paladin like an idiot. _Oh gods, Shandra was right, it was terribly obvious wasn't it! And why is he confronting me about this now? Here? On the road?_ Sand and the gith were further behind, out of earshot, but Bishop was less than twenty feet ahead. She saw him stiffen in his saddle. Of course, he's been listening to all of this.

"Katriona..." Casavir said. Adahni all but breathed a heavy sigh of relief, "She is a good woman. I rebuffed her for years, sometimes not as gently as I should have. I preferred a life of celibacy, dreaming of the woman I had loved..."

"When all you know of a person is a fantasy that you yourself have concocted, you're bound to be disappointed. I imagine Vania was just as guilty of that as you. All she sees is her knight in his blazing armor proclaiming his love in the moonlight, and forgets that the business of being a knight means poverty and danger as much as it means romance and looking good with your shirt off." Casavir blushed at this, and Adahni rolled her eyes, "Well gods, don't take it personally. So why not talk to Katriona? Surely you two have enough history that it wouldn't be too terribly awkward."

He shook his head ruefully from side to side, "That ship has sailed. My heart would not be in it. Just as blind love of someone you barely know lands you in a heap of trouble, so would trying to force it. It is enough for me, to know that I am worthy of a good woman's admiration."

"Aye, that you are," she said, "I imagine more so than you think."

"The two of you make me want to hurl!" the ranger announced, by way of interrupting the conversation, "Gods almighty, you're like a bad play! How about we pause for five minutes, you two can go rut in the woods, and we can all be spared this nonsense."

"Like it would take five minutes," Adahni scoffed. Bishop was challenging her, though he seemed like he was joking, and the only way to make him get off it was to make it clear that it was, after all, only a joke.

Casavir sat in his saddle, a little confused as to what the ranger found so funny about Adahni's response, and then concluded that the meaning of the joke was so obviously filthy that he would no longer think on it. Then again, most of what the Captain did confused him. She'd always been a bit of a mystery, at one moment full of only the noblest intentions, and the next, doing something downright... evil. He had to believe that she was doing the right thing - he was in too deep now._ It's the ranger, of course_, he thought, _She was never like this before he appeared. She was a good woman, if rough around the edges. Now it seems she's more edges than center._ The ranger, evidently allowing her back in his good graces, had paused to let her ride beside him. As they spoke, their bodies leaned towards each other, involuntarily. Casavir stayed behind. _If only_, he thought, _If only I'd seen her the way she looked on Midwinter Morning in her father's house. If only I'd seen her like that, at first. Oh, Cas, you are a foolish old man, you are._

"Whatever you're thinking, I'd advise you to stop it," Sand said. He'd surreptitiously caught up to the paladin in the time he had spent staring off into space and regretting the past, "Vania wasn't your kind of girl, but I assure you the Captain isn't either. You'll only cause sadness if you pursue it."

"I did not ask you for your council, Master Elf," Casavir said.

"Ah yes, but you see, I don't give a rat's behind what you ask for or want, I only insist that you listen to what it is I am telling you," Sand said. He gestured to the Captain, who was laughing at something the ranger had said. It wasn't the giggling, tinkling laugh he was used to hearing, but a deeper, harder sound that came bubbling up from her belly and caused her to throw her head back. "That is some very dark, very dangerous magic there. You'd do best not to soil your lily-white hands with it."

"I know my lady," he said, staunchly, unwilling to offer any promises to the wizard.

"Suit yourself," Sand said, "I only hope we all don't live to regret it."


	88. The Valley of the Mad Dragon

As they rode into the mountain, the air seemed to chill around them by the hour. They set out from Old Owl Well at dawn on the second day, anticipating to cross the river into Luskan territory and be at Nolaloth's valley by mid afternoon. Soon, the way grew steep and the horses' breathing grew labored. The party dismounted. The horses knew the way home, and Lord Nasher's seal on the saddle ensured that most bandits would not dare try to steal them. They five of them scrambled up the rocky path. Adahni felt the sweat stand on her skin for a moment before it was swallowed up by the frigid mountain air, as up and up they went.

They paused as the sides of rock rose up sharply on either side, sending the path into shadow.

"We have been climbing for some time, but I feel that our destination is near," Zhjaeve said. She looked up the path. If she'd had eyebrows, they probably would have been raised, "The path winds like the tail of a great beast."

"Tail of a great dragon," Adahni mused.

They walked down the path. The sides of the mountain sank slowly as they went, and before them spread a green valley. Adahni could not help but catch her breath. She had been many places and seen many beautiful landscapes, but something about this valley, so peaceful and cool, was different and exceptionally beautiful. The dry path gave way to lush grass, and even so high up, oaks and aspens grew high. The gith priestess noticed too, as she intoned, a bit ominously, "Life grows thick here, even in the middle of these dead mountains."

Adahni cast about. As Jerro said, there was a lake, the bluest water she had ever seen. A pool stood beside it, and a large sculpture of crystal or glass.

"A bit suprising, I suppose," Adahni said.

"It must be the presence of the dragon spirit that makes this place possible. Know that we should continue our search, the dragon cannot be far."

"Hm," Adahni said, "Should get a dragon spirit for the keep. Could use the help out on the farms."

Instinctively, Adahni approached the crystal sculpture, suspended eerily over an earthy pool.

"This crystal," Zhjaeve said, "It's shaped like the heart of a dragon. We should not harm it, it might only serve to anger the dragon."

"Believe it or not, I don't just run into every situation and start battering things with my sword," Adahni muttered, "I'm not about to touch anything around here. Wouldn't want to ruin it."

She paused by the pool, watchin the still, murky water lap at the base of the crystal. For one moment, she got the distinct feeling that the water was looking back at her. She shook it off, it was probably just the reflection of one of her companions, muddled in the rippling water of the pool. All in a moment, she saw the water rise up out of the pool and towards her. Before she could yell for the rest of her companions, the figure of a man, nearly eight feet tall and made entirely of water, had leapt out of the pool and knocked her on her back. Panicked, she breathed a blast of fire at it, and watched in relief as some of him boiled away and the steam rose up into the clear autumn sky.

To her horror, though, that which had not boiled off reformed into a slightly smaller man of water, which charged her again, striking her in the side of the head and making stars dance before her eyes.

"Addie!" she heard Bishop's voice call, "For the love of gods, Sand do something."

"Calm down, boy," Sand said, "These things take time." Adahni rolled over and over to get away from her assailant. She saw as the world turned over Sand rolled the magical energies between his slim little hands. He crafted a fireball and sent it at him. This time, the fire exploded and the elemental reared back as that which formed him evaporated like steam off the top of a hot cup of tea.

She pulled herself to her feet. A goose egg was rapidly growing beside her right ear, and on the back of her head where she had fallen. She felt nauseous of a sudden, doubled over, and vomited on the green dewy grass of the suddenly less picturesque valley.

Casavir made it to her side first, whispering a prayer that made his hands glow with holy light. He took her face between his hands. She felt the pain and nausea leach out of her skull and into the paladin's calloused hands. The light went out, and it was just the paladin holding her face in his hands past the moment at which it became a bit awkward.

"Am I healed, Cas?" she asked, her speech slightly muffled.

"Aye, my lady!" he exclaimed, his hands springing away from her like she was hot pan off the fire that he had just realized he was holding.

"Strange," Zhjaeve said, peering into the pool, "Powerful beings seem to gravitate to this object. In fact..." her voice trailed off as she heard something that the others didn't, and whirled, her eyes darting to the mountain's rim which rose up all around them, "Look, other beings are present."

To the east and west, Adahni followed Zhjaeve's gaze and saw two horned black dragons perched on boulders high on the peaks around. They kept their distance, and so she didn't panic.

"Know that I feel a reat energy coming from this crystal. Dragonkin must be drawn to it, and covet its power."

No wonder I find this place so pleasant, Adahni thought, Thank Gods I didn't bring Qara.

"They watch us, for now," Zhjaeve said, "We must be careful."

"Jerro said he spent his time speaking with Nolaloth at the edge of a lake," Adahni said, "I suppose we could go stand on the side of that cliff and throw in stones until something comes out."

The lake lay through a narrow part in the cliffs surrounding the valley, a bit of rock sticking out over the water, perpetually in the shadows of the approached the side of the cliff, the deep blue water. As it happened, throwing in stones was not necessary. As she approached an outcropping that jutted out over the lake, the apparition of a dragons head, crystalline like the dragon's heart that lay suspended over the pool.

"Were I not undead I would scatter you over this valley," the dragon's rumbling voice came from the depths of the pool, "Yet instead you roam unchecked within my remains, like parasites. What promises shall you make, this time?"

"Within your remains?" Bishop said, casting about, "Ew."

"You're the great wyrm himself then, we have been looking for you," Adahni said, coating her words with honey.

"You no doubt come at the heels of your masters, though they are not present," the dragon ghost said.

"I am noones servant," Adahni replied, her voice a little less sweet.

"Lies! Why ekse would you be here, in this one's scar in the earth, were it not at the command of the Illefarne. I may rest on the brink of death, but do not think me blind to what transpires on my grave. You are here because again you need my help, though you always refuse the price. Did you think you could cage a power of the planes? I will show you what it means to be caged!"

"No wonder Jerro had such a rapport with this creature!" Bishop shouted, "They're both stark raving mad!"

Adahni whirled, and saw a web of magical energy stretch between the rocks, cutting them off from the rest of the valley.

"Together we shall remain here, to contemplate, to despair, to rot. I have been here for millenia. How long do you think you will last, mortal?'

"Considering how cold it will get here at night, not very long," Adahni said, "Listen, we are not allies of the Illefarn. There are no Illefarn. Do you wish us to prostrate ourselves before your corpse? Cease this now! As we wait, a power of evil grows stronger. I will soon break free from its shadowy prison."

"Shadow?" the dragon rumbled, "What shadow?"

"The King of Shadows has returned to this plain," Zhjaeve said, "Know that if he is not..."

"This changes things," Nolaloth said, his ghostly visage rearing back, "While I hate the Illefarn, this is but a pale flame compared to my hatred for the King of Shadows. I have not heard that cursed name for a lifetime! Once I was a great power, an ancient being of crystal and liuht."

"It appears we have a common enemy."

"Are you, or are you not of Illefarn?" Nolaloth said.

"There are no Illefarn," Adahni said, "They fell, millenia ago."

"Dead... then my last shreds of hope go along with them. It is a wonder that the endless decades have not driven me mad. I have waited for them for thousands of years. I was promised a new life! And instead, I have been abandoned, left to languish in this insignificant crack in the world. And, when an eternity had passed, another fragile mortal appeared, no doubt seeking power. He called himself Ammon Jerro and claimed to be of Illefarn."

"Well what a coincidence. He sent me here."

"You know this man? And I should trust you for what reason?"

"I know you fought the King of Shadows. We need your help to defeat it again."

"And how am I to help?" the dragon asked.

"The Silver Sword," Adahni said, "I need to know how to repair it."

"Of course, your weapon was broken by the King of Shadows, was it not? Of silver swords I know but little. The githyanki jealously guard their secrets. But I do know about the King of Shadows' tactics. How he breaks an opponent."

"That will have to suffice then," Adahni said.

"Your adversary spreads its influence by corrupting his targets, until they no loner resemble what they once were. Eventually, everything is a shadow. It grows long and distracts us from what casts it. But a shadow can never become more than a weak outline. It may stretch and row fearsomely large, but always it must circle its master. Your blade is no different. If the sword is to be made whole again, you must look past the pale shadows its broken pieces cast and find the center from where the shadow emanates."

Adahni thought for a long moment, casting about for anything in her experience that resonated with the dragon's words. "In my village," she said, "There is a scar upon the earth, where the sword was broken."

"Then that is where you must go now, mortal."

"It will be perilous," the gith said, "But we can use the Song Portal from the Illefarn Ruins to reach the Guardian Ruins on the outskirts of West Harbor."

"What was West Harbor," Adahni corrected her.

"I can see from your eyes that this is what you came for. Now I must ask of you. Always I have been promised recompense at a later date, even now. My mind verges on insanity with the long years. For tolerating your presence, I make but one demand. Kill me."

"You wish us to end your life?" Casavir asked.

"This life is an abomination, and I am no longer content for chance to rescue me from the void."

"I imagine if it were mine I would, too, be pleading for death," Adahni said. Like she had felt for Jerro before they had left the keep, she now felt a twinge of sorrow for this creature, wasting away for millenia in a godsforsaken mountain just over the Luskan border.

"To kill me, mortal, you must simply destroy my heart. Be warned - it attracts many beings of power that feed from it, as you have already noticed. My body is no more, but in its place is a new kind of life that has sprung into bein. My heart is all that remains. The last shreds of my life reside within. Go now. I tired of... everything."

"What a sad creature," Casavir observed, "Perhaps we should grant its request."

"Aye," Sand agreed, "Poor thing's gone mad."

"You just want to brag that you killed the legendary dragon Nolaloth," Adahni jabbed at him.

"You know me too well, my lady," Sand said.

They approached the pool, Addie quite apprehensively. Sure enough, as Adahni drew her blade and Casavir his mace, they heard the beating of wings and felt blasts of cool air as the black dragons that had sat, perched on the rocks high above, circled and landed to protect the great crystalline heart. Not one to be taken by surprise twice in one day, Adahni had already drawn her blade. The dragons advanced on them, not saying much of anything.

"For intelligent beings, you don't speak very much," Adahni observed. Bishop nocked an arrow to his bow. and loosed it, striking one in the neck. It didn't seem to bother the dragon nearly as much as Adahni would have liked, and she found herself dodging wildly as it bore down her, trying to catch her between teeth nearly as long as her middle finger, and then a fireball that Sand sent which did not hurt her, but singed the ends of her hair a bit. Fencing with creatures much larger than oneself was an art, one that, for Adahni at least, was almost entirely self-taught. She went for the vulnerable parts that presented themselves. Tendons, joints, weak places in the plate-like dragon scale. These dragons were young, tiny compared to the legendary dragon of Mount Galardrym, tinier still compared to how large Nolaloth must have been before his demise. Their youth made them careless, flinging themselves headlong at the party without regard for the many pointy objects that the crew had in their possession. It was Sand who got the better of them in the end, showering them with missiles until first one, then the other, slumped over, dead.

"Rather sad," Adahni sighed, "Such magnificent creatures."

"Magnificent all right," Bishop said, "When they've not gone half mad with time" but Adahni could tell from his tone of voice that the ranger, too, had at least some grudging respect for the dragons, both the ones they had killed, and the one they were about to.

Adahni approached the pool again. The dragon's heart had changed. It looked less like crystal, and more organic. It pulsed and quivered slightly. She wiped her blade of the black dragons' blood, and in a single fluid motion, thrust it into Nolaloth's disembodied heart. The heart gave a great shudder and sigh, and after all the long millenia since the Illefarn had ruled Faerun, it became still. The valley around them trembled slightly and it seemed as though the earth itself heaved one last sob as the ghostly shape of Nolaloth rose from the valley. It looked at Adahni for a short moment, and then flew off into the brilliant blue of the mountain sky, free at long last.

Would that it were so simple for me, Adahni thought wistfully, watching the apparition sail higher and higher until it became one with the clouds, To fly away into the sky and leave it all behind. "In a way," she said after several minutes of silence, "Aren't we all trapped in valleys of our own?"

"There are worse places to be trapped," Casavir replied.

"There are always worse places to be trapped," Bishop said. His voice was uncharacteristically soft and contemplative, without the bitter edge he usually gave to words, "But in our hearts we all long for freedom." Addie saw two men's eyes meet, and for a brief moment, she saw them understand each other. But, as is often the case with men, it could not last. It was the paladin who looked away first, and the ranger who called for the group to start back down the mountain path. They did so, trudging back to Crossroad Keep, each privately wondering if they would live long enough to go mad.

Adahni had only one regret, and it was that Jerro never got a chance to say goodbye to his friend in torment. Then again, Jerro knew the arts of finding and speaking with the dead, and a red dragon in the Sea of Souls would be an easy target indeed.


	89. Charmed, I'm Sure

The sun was sinking below the horizon as they came upon the town that had sprung up in Old Owl Well. They went to the fountain in the town center, splashing water on their face. Sand went off to one of the two inns in town to make arrangements, and the rest of them plunked their bones down on a bench, each lost in their own thoughts. As such, Adahni didn't notice when two watchmen approached them, and only looked up when one cleared his throat loudly.

"Excuse me," the watchman asked, addressing not Adahni, but Casavir, "Are you the one they called _katalmach_?"

"Yes, I am," Casavir said, "Is your last name Edehlion?I believe I served with your brother. Honorable man."

"Aye, my name's Edehlion." the watchman said, "Andrym was my brother. Admired you, sure enough. Enough to follow you into the hills to his death."

"I am sorry for your loss," Casavir said, "We gave him a proper burial."

"Nothing to be done about it now," the watchman said, "Him being gone these three years. Anyway, _katalmach_, there's a woman here, asking after you."

Adahni's thoughts first fell on Vania, but then realized that Vania would know enough to seek him out at Crossroad Keep. If the latest she had heard of Casavir was his exploits among the orcs, she must have been out of the loop for some time.

"Describe her," Casavir commanded, his features darkening.

"Older lady," the watchman said, "Late fifties or early sixties. Hair probably used to be black or brown. Ring on her little finger would pay my wages for a year."

"Oh Gods," Casavir sighed, "I knew this was going to happen one of these days."

"I take it you know who I'm talking about?" the watchman said, "Either way, she's in the finer of the two inns if you want to see her."

Adahni saw the blood drain from the paladin's already pale face. The ranger, in the corner of her eye, had perked up, and was watching the conversation with a ghost of a smirk playing around his mouth. The gith seemed oblivious to both of them, still staring off into the distance. Adahni looked at Casavir, trying to read his expression, which was stony and sullen. All of a sudden, she remembered one morning on a boat sailing for Highcliff. Adahni had refused to speak about her husband, and Casavir had refused to speak of his parents.

"Word of your exploits reached her, and she came here hoping to find you. I told her that you'd been through a day before, but that you were in the service of the Knight Captain of Crossroad Keep. She seemed pleased," the watchman said.

"Take me to her," Casavir said, "My lady... I would have you come with me."

"Very well," Adahni said, "Come on then, people..."

"No, my lady," Casavir said, "Just yourself."

"Know that this will be difficult for him," Zhjaeve said, "You should grant his request."

The ranger looked at her reproachfully, but evidently had already figured out that she was going to do what she was going to do and his disapproval meant precious little. "Come on, priestess," he said, "We'll meet the elf in the tavern and have a drink."

The priestess smiled under her veil, and the two went off to the worse of the two inns. Adahni found herself following the paladin's broad back to the nicer one. The watchman led them through the barroom and upstairs to a fine suite of rooms that Adahni would not even dream of renting now that she could afford it. There was a woman seated at the table, reading a thick tome on the spellcraft of the Netheril.

Casavir cleared his throat, and she looked up. Adahni instantly recognized Casavir's features in her. Her face, though softer and covered in pearly face powder, was unmistakable. Her black hair was streaked liberally with gray, her blue eyes were ringed with very carefully applied paints - and crow's feet - but the smile that spread over her face as she laid eyes upon him was the same one that Casavir bestowed so rarely.

"My son," she said, rose, and swept across the room to them. Her gown was fine, embroidered with gold, and the clip which held her silvery hair in place was of elven make, and, Adahni imagined, very expensive. She suddenly found herself embarassed of her stained armor, her bruised face, her ragged hair. The older woman looked at her, and while her expression didn't change, Adahni felt as though she had been read like a book. "And _you_ must be Vania!" she exclaimed, and Adahni found herself swept up in a perfumed embrace.

"No!" Adahni protested when she was finally released, "I am not Vania. My name is Adahni Farishta, I am the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep."

"Hm!" sniffed Casavir's mother, looking back at her son, "Too bad." She extended one lily-white hand, in that obnoxious way that some women did, ostensibly to shake hands, but holding it limp. Taking her hand was like holding a dead bird, Adahni observed, but she did it anyway, "Lana Andarion, charmed, I'm sure."

"Why have you sought me out now, Mother?" Casavir asked, "After these years."

"Word came to me in Baldur's Gate that you had left the monastery and gone renegade," she replied, "How utterly devastating! I am _so_ happy for you, and now that I am here in Neverwinter _territory_, I hear your name sung by the minstrels from here to Port Llast!"

"I did not do it to win your approval, Mother," Casavir said, "Nor that of the bards. But tell me, when you fled Neverwinter all those years ago and told me you would never return - what has changed?"

"Circumstances!" Lana breathed airly, waving a hand in the air like a dove flapping its wings, "I will be accompanying you to Crossroad Keep to stay on for the season. Baldur's Gate is so _dreadfully_ dry in the winter... So tell me, Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep - Adenni is it?"

"Adahni," the bard corrected.

"Ah yes, Adayni," Lana said, "They tell me you travel with quite a... erm... _diverse _crew and you've _generously _let them all stay with you in your Keep."

"You could call it that," Adahni replied, "And yes, I do. They've stood by my side, I'm not going to put them out."

"You simply _must_ tell me about them!" Lana said. Adahni looked at Casavir desperately, and he shrugged, helpless.

"Well, um, there's me, and Cas here, and two other humans - a ranger and a sorceress - and then there's a tiefling, a dwarf, two elves... who am I forgetting, Cas?"

"Grobnar, my lady."

"Ah yes! An effeminate little gnome named Grobnar," Adahni said.

"How charming!" Lana said, though the expression on her face looked as though she had just smelled a round of cheese that had gone off, "Tell me, the elves, are they Wood Elves? I can't_ abide_ Wood Elves..."

"I, ehm, I don't make it my business to know the intricacies of my companions' ethnic backgrounds," Adahni said.

"Oh, but_ you_ understand," Lana said, "They being all... grubby."

"Mother, I believe my lady's foster father is a Wood Elf," Casavir said. His face was so pink Adahni could almost see his scalp go red through his hair.

"Hm!" sniffed Lana, and offered no apology or, indeed, any indication that she was at all uncomfortable having put her foot in her mouth like that.

"To answer your question," Adahni said, with as much dignity as she could muster, "I do believe one of my companions is a Wood Elf. The other is a Moon Elf. Is that satisfactory?"

"Mother!" Casavir said sharply, "This is simply not appropriate. Now tell me, why are you here now? And where is my stepfather?"

"Your _father_ is back in Baldur's Gate, my dear, a man of his age_ simply_ couldn't make the journey at this time of year," Lana replied.

"He's four months younger than you, mother," Casavir said.

"Yes, but _you_ know how people from Calumshan age. Like milk!" Lana exclaimed, and let loose a tinkling little laugh that Adahni imagined she had probably cultivated from the moment she entered charm school.

"I will leave you to catch up, Cas," said Adahni, "I have, erm, business I must attend to." _At the bottom of a beer with someone I'm not tempted to throw across the room, _she added silently.

"Yes," Casavir said, "I think that it's for the best. We must have words, Mother, and I don't want to burden my lady with my problems."

"Oh, Adeeni, you simply must tell me how you get him to call you "my lady." He never calls me anything but Mother!" Lana said, sweeping Adahni into another pungent embrace. Adahni backed away slowly, and as soon as she got out of range of Lana's piercing blue eyes, she ran all the way to the other inn, very nearly giggling out loud.

She found Sand and Bishop sitting together in one corner. Sand had a martini in one hand that he was staring at as though he could cause the quality of the gin it was made with to increase by sheer force of will. He also looked, though, as if he were on his fourth or fifth, the way he swayed and his eyes glazed if they looked too long on any one thing. Bishop, meanwhile, was grimly drowning himself in a mug of wheat ale. The gith was nowhere to be found. Alcohol didn't affect the githzerai as it did humans - the priestess found it disgusting to the taste and had absolutely no idea why her companions would voluntarily ingest it, and so she had taken to spending long hours meditating when the rest of the crew was getting tiddly. Adahni obtained her customary ale from the bartender, and went to join the rest of her companions.

"Who's the dame?" Bishop asked.

"His mother," Adahni said, "And hello to you too."

"His mother, eh?" the ranger commented, raising his eyebrows, "Funny, I was thinking he'd hatched from an egg somewhere in the Land of the Sanctimonious Pricks. What's she like? Is she as obnoxious as he is?"

"Some rich noble from Baldur's Gate. Gods almighty I can't get her perfume out of the back of my throat." She made a gagging noise.

"Perfume? Sounds like she's an entirely different breed of obnoxious from Casavir," Sand said, "Though I have to say I've only recently learned to ascertain personality differences among you round-ears, so perhaps I'm wrong..."

"_Ae le quena _round-ear_ ata sanamin tyell-le_, " Adahni said, mimicking the high-class accent Sand affected when he spoke in his native tongue. Then, she added, for good measure, "Asshole."

"Oh, but some of my best friends are round-ears!" Sand said, unperturbed by Adahni's threats to end him right then and there if he kept calling them round-ears, "Right Bishop?"

"He has a point," the ranger grunted, "His own kind sure can't seem to stand him."

"You're beginning to grow on me, Master Ranger," Sand said, sipping his martini and making a face, "Like a foot fungus that I simply can't be bothered to treat."

"Curious thing to call your friend," Adahni commented.

"Seeing as by this time next month we might all be dead beneath the Mere," Sand said gloomily, "Does it really matter in the scheme of things?"

"Good gods, Sand," Bishop sighed, "You sure have a way of bringing up a man's spirits." He finished his tankard, and went to get two more. He returned presently and set one down before Addie, "Give us a song, will you Addie? I've about had enough of being morose."

"That is one thing you bards have managed to figure out that the rest of us haven't quite put our fingers on yet," Sand said, "Sure, we can blow things up, brew potions, summon creatures, cause people to inexplicably soil their pants, banish things to the lower realms, conjure energy field to hit people with and pretty much everything else much better than you. But good Gods you do know how to put people in a good mood! Once we figure that out, you'll all be out of business."

"Remember, Sand, I could also make you cry like a halfling girl in front of half the bar and call for your mother," Adahni warned.

"You act as though I give a pig's whisker for my reputation in this one-horse town," Sand said, "But do you really want to emasculate poor Bishop like that? I mean... more so that you already have."

"He's his own man," Adahni said.

"Ridiculous!" Sand snorted. He pointed to the end of the bar, where for the first time, Adahni noticed Talia Quarely sitting with a man she hadn't seen before, laughing and flirting, and every so often looking directly over at her, "See that flaxen-haired beauty there?"

"Oh, I see her all right," Adahni said.

"She was over here, bold as brass, trying like all the hells to get into this man's breeches!" Sand says, "And he pushes her away, tells her to stop embarrassing herself! Now you tell me you didn't have something to do with that."

Adahni smirked at the ranger, who shrugged. "He's his own man. I'm sure he had his reasons." She looked back at Talia, who was leaning in, putting her hand on the man's shoulder. Adahni started drumming on the table, a jig rhythm, determined to give Bishop his song and show Sand that there could be just as much power in the soft magic of playing emotions as there was in all the magic missiles he could shoot out of his delicate little hands.

_Oh, Johnny be fair and Johnny be fine he wants me for to wed_  
_And I would marry Johnny, but me father up and said_  
_"I'm sorry to tell you daughter, what your mother never knew_  
_But Johnny is a son of mine and so he's kin to you"_

_Oh, Willie be fair and Willie be fine he wants me for to wed_  
_And I would marry Willie, but me father up and said_  
_"I'm sorry to tell you daughter, what your mother never knew_  
_But Willie too is a son of mine and so he's kin to you"_

_Oh, Thomas be fair and Thomas be fine he wants me for to wed_  
_And I would marry Thomas, but me father up and said_  
_"I'm sorry to tell you daughter, what your mother never knew_  
_But Thomas is a son of mine and so he's kin to you"_

_Oh, you never saw a maid so sad and sorry as I was_  
_The lads in town were all me kin and me father was the cause_  
_If life should thus continue, I will die a single miss_  
_I think I'll go to mother and complain to her of this_

_"Oh, daughter, haven't I told you to forgive and to forget?_  
_Your father sowed his wild oats, but still you need not fret_  
_Your father may be father to all the lads in town, but still_  
_He's not the one who sired you, so marry whom you will"_

Bishop, she knew, had heard this one before, but he seemed happy enough to hear her. Sand, however, was evidently tickled enough to guffaw quite loudly, pounding the table with his hand, tears dripping from his eyes.

"Well gods, I didn't think it was _that_ funny," Adahni said.

Sand excused himself to visit the outhouse, still tittering, leaving Adahni and Bishop alone with their liquor.

"You know I don't care," Adahni said, the first to break what turned out to be quite an awkward silence, "If you wanted Talia for the night. She ain't a threat to me. Never was."

"I care," Bishop replied.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Adahni asked. She finished her first ale and picked up the one that Bishop had gotten her.

"It means what it means," he said, "Anyways, I've had her already, the fun's gone."

"I see," Adahni replied, raising her eyebrows, "I suppose I'll have to try to keep things interesting."

"Don't try too hard," the ranger replied, "You might ruin it."

"Thanks for the advice, Princess," she said, rolling her eyes, "Come on, Sand's back in. Let's get him shitfaced and have him try to do spells on the outskirts."

"So long as he doesn't kill one of us in the process," Bishop said, "His aim is lousy when he's sober."

"But won't it be worth it?"

"Probably," he said, snickering a bit, "Anyway, it'll save us having to listen to the paladin talk about his feelings when he comes back from seeing his mommy."

"That too," Adahni said as the wizard toddled up to their table.

"I love you guys so much!" he said, putting a spindly arm around each of their shoulders.

"We love you too, Sand," Adahni said, "Here, drink this." She handed him her hip flask, full of Ruathym whiskey that she had confiscated from a merchant caravan. He did so, grimacing, but managing to get it - and keep it - down.

Even the ranger had to admit, the different colors created when an inebriated wizard cast magic missiles at the sky were quite something to be seen. After Sand passed out in a haystack, Adahni and Bishop finished her whiskey and looked up at the stars. She didn't know what the ranger was thinking, but as Adahni gazed at those distant orbs, she thought briefly that the simple things like that were quite reason enough to save the world.


	90. A Nocturnal Visit

Adahni awoke in a cold sweat before the sun had begun to peek over the horizon. That was strange for her. Though no stranger to insomnia, it was usually all or nothing - either she would spend the night tossing and turning, or she would sleep through to the cock's crow the next morning. Used to the half-light of Crossroad Keep, where the watch was kept twenty-four hours a day and flickering torches could always seen out the window, the pitch dark of Old Owl Well at night felt unnatural, reminding her of a tomb. The ranger was fast asleep next to her, his mouth open and drooling on her shoulder, and yet she had the distinct feeling that she was being watched.

"You're going to want to go there straightaway, Addie," a voice came from the darkness. Adahni sat up straight and uttered a little squeak of fear, pulling the covers up to cover her otherwise bare chest. Bishop only muttered something in his sleep and turned over.

"Who's there?" Adahni whispered hoarsely, "How did you get in here?"

She heard a small mumble of magical incantations, and a pale light issued from the corner furthest from the door. Standing in the pool of magical incandescence stood the willowy frame of Casavir's mother. Adahni felt the blood drain from her face. "What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to at once scramble out of bed and keep herself covered.

"Stay still, girl," Lana barked, "Like I care if I catch a glimpse of you without your skivvies on. I'm not a twelve-year-old boy. I'm just here to warn you that you're going to want to leave now. Every day the taint of the King of Shadow spreads further across the Mere, and soon the place you need to go will be Claimed like the rest of that godsforsaken swamp."

"How did you..." Adahni started, "What... Who are you?"

"Stop asking stupid questions, girl!" she ordered. She pronounced it "stewpid," which Adahni had always found pretentious and ridiculous, but she was in no position to criticize, "I'm going to leave now, but if you care at all for this world you're trying to save, you will set out for the Ruins of Arvahn this instant!"

"I'll have to wake..."

"You will do no such thing," Lana said, "You will go alone. Now!" With the last word, a brilliant flash of light illuminated the room bright as day, and the older woman was gone. Adahni rubbed her eyes, wondering if that had actually happened or if her imagination had created it all. In either case, the woman/figment of her imagination had a point. The King of Shadows was, indeed, growing stronger day by day.

"What the fuck..." muttered Bishop, roused by the sudden light in his eyes, "Addie, were you having one of those dragon dreams again? If you keep lighting the curtains on fire in your sleep I'm going to start stuffing your mouth with cotton before you lie down."

"No," Adahni said, already up and struggling with her armor in the dark. Bishop lit a match and with it the bedside candle. He squinted at her as she tried to put her breeches on backwards, and then the right way around.

"Is there a reason you're doing that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, "I much prefer it that you don't sleep in anything that has a bunch of metal pointy bits..."

"I've got to go tonight," Adahni said, "The Claimed Lands are closing in on Westharbor. If I'm to make this Sword of Gith whole I'm going to have to leave now."

"And what made you think this in the middle of the night?"

"I can't... I can't explain it. Someone came to me with a message," she said.

"It's making you mad," he said, "That shard inside you. Stealing off into the woods in the middle of the night..."

"This whole thing has been mad," Adahni said, "I can't explain it, of course it's mad... but at the same time, all the odd things that I've done, that I've been compelled to do, it's led us closer to the goal. I don't have any choice Bishop. I have to trust what they tell me. I don't know how to do it on my own."

"All right," he said, "No sense in being so hasty you can't even get your pants on straight. Calm down, let me get my gear on."

"No," she said, "I've got to go on my own."

"Don't be ridiculous, Addie," the ranger scoffed, "You're not going in the darkness by yourself."

"Yes," she said, "I am. Take the others back to the keep."

"No," he said, "I won't let you."

"And what in our history together leads you to believe you have any say in this?" Adahni asked. Her breeches were up, her chainmail on. She drew herself to her admittedly not terribly impressive height and glared at her lover, "I am going. You can do whatever it is you want."

"I want to accompany you. I move faster than you do, and so I'd hazard to guess that it's you that doesn't have much say in it," Bishop said, "You'll travel faster if you're not trying to evade me at every turn. You might as well just accept it." He hopped out of bed himself, tugging on underclothes and armor. Adahni looked at him helplessly and waited until he was geared up to head for the door. She left a note, scrawled in Elvish and slipped under Sand's door.

_Head for the Keep. Watch out for Casavir's mother. I have the feeling there is more to her than meets the eye._

Adahni felt her eyes adjust to the dark slowly as they took the northerly path out of town and up into the foothills, up the path, through meadow where she had once lain with Jem, and up into the mountains. At some point - she wasn't quite sure when - the gray wolf joined them, trotting by Bishop's side, touching her nose to the ground every so often. The area was clear of orcs, though evidence of their settlements remained, ghostly in the starlight. It was a new moon, and Adahni was grateful that the ranger had insisted on accompanying her. His footsteps were sure even in the black of night, he could find the path by scent and trick even where it would have stumped any else, keen of sight or otherwise. He was silent, and she followed him from the sound of his boots on the ground, struggling to keep her breathing as quiet as his even as the sweat beaded along her hairline.

Up and into the mountains they went, the wind getting colder the higher they went. And then, he stopped abruptly, nearly causing her to walk smack into his back. She saw ahead of them on the path, the gray wolf paused.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"There's a shortcut," Bishop said, "I know it's around here somewhere."

"What?" Adahni exclaimed, "You mean all this time..."

"The other times we came here we left from Crossroad Keep," Bishop said, "Taking the road through Old Owl Well would have taken just as much time as this shortcut would have taken. Especially with a large group of people slowing us down."

"He looked around, sniffing the air, when finally Karnwyr trotted back over, nipping at his fingers to get his attention. When it had been gotten, she scurried over to the side of the bath and let loose a bark before what looked, to Adahni, like another rockface exposed by the dwarves who had carved this road out of the heart of the mountain. Bishop paused too, and suddenly disappeared into the rock. Before Adahni could yell that she didn't have his sixth sense about these things, his arm shot out of the cleft where he'd disappeared into and pulled her in, too. The wolf yipped again, a farewell that made it clear that she had no intention of going in there with them, and took off into the night.

Adahni found her eyes having to adjust to the middle of the night in the inside of a mountain. The passage was narrow, and pitch dark. She seized a handful of the ranger's cloak and followed him blindly. The fear, which she had learned to ignore, began to swell in her throat. Where is he taking me? she thought, feeling her chest grow tight and anxious.

"The orcs used to mine the hills," Bishop said, "This is how the orcs first came to Old Owl Well. The tribe we met in the Ruins of Arvahn began mining gems there. It took them right on through to these hills and found a source of water high in the hills where they thought they had none."

"We're going through an abandoned mine?" she said. She remembered being a child, reading books and more books about the horrors of what happened to miners. Crawling on their hands and knees through tiny shafts to dig ore deep in the heart of the mountains, cave-ins that crushed them or left them to die of thirst and lack of air. These were not the roomy passages that the orcs had dug to live in, but the narrow ones that they sent only their lowliest members, their convicts and their slaves, to hew.

"Calm down," Bishop said, "It's an orc mine. "You and I are quite a bit smaller than your average orc, we'll be fine."

"Aye, I know," she said.

He reached back and groped in the darkness, finally finding her hand with his.

"It'll slow us down," she said.

"I'm saving you hours," he said, "You can lose a few moments holding on to my hand if it'll make you stop that dreadful panting."

Adahni muttered something rude, but held on to him as they made their way through the tunnels.

"How do you know all this?" she asked, "I've never read that in any book."

"Twenty years ago there were no orcs in Old Owl Well," Bishop said, "But there have always been orc tribes in the Ruins of Arvahn. Logram, the clan chief here, and Uthanck, the chief of the tribe in the ruins, are brothers. Put two and two together, would you?"

"I see," Adahni replied, "So you're telling me that your hypothesis that this tunnel goes anywhere at all, let alone to Arvahn, is based entirely on a guess?"

"You depend on books too much. All the information you need is usually right in front of your face if you're observant enough to connect the dots."

"And wind up in the pitch black in the middle of a mountain with a complete lunatic," she muttered.

"Which one of us is the lunatic?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Adahni replied. She concentrated a moment, screwed up her face, the summoned the light of the aasimar which poured from her skin. She hadn't wanted to light herself up like a beacon in the dark outside. They were, after all, only two, and if brigands were to set upon them she was not entirely confident in their power to fight them off... or rather her power to fight them off, for Bishop could very well take off into the woods and leave her to fend for herself. In the ghostly light she saw that they were in quite a narrow passageway, the dark rock of the mountain all around them. The ground was littered with small gems - and the disjointed skeletons of miners who had died in the getting of them. She looked up at the ranger, who turned his amber eyes to her.

"Your light is a different color," he observed briefly, and looked back to the path ahead.

"What?" she asked.

"It used to be white," he said, "Now it's red."

She looked at her hand, clasped in his, and realized that he was right. Instead of the silvery light that she had produced the first time Neeshka had shown her she could, the light was orangy, reddish, like he said.

"I wonder what's going on with that," she said.

"It's nicer this way," he said, and she decided that that did not quite deserve a response.

It was several hours by her estimation before the path grew wider and the ground sandy beneath their feet. She let go of his hands as the rock face gave way to paneled walls with crystalline lights in them.

"We're..." she began.

"Aye," Bishop replied, "In the gem mines. I told you."

She let loose a sigh of relief and let the light beneath her skin wink out, for the pale auras of the ghost lights would light their way. Up and up they went, until the sandy floor became flagstones, and they passed through the chambers that had been occupied by the King of Shadows back when he was a mortal, and past the tree that had been brought back by the shades of the Illefarn that had remained, and then into the old library where the spirit Balaur was still pacing, back and forth, back and forth, as he had been doing for millenia.

"Come again, mortal child?" he intoned, his voice like leaves skipping over cobblestones.

"For a brief moment, Spirit," she said.

"Aye..." he whispered, "Know that your time of trial is nearly at hand."

"I know," she replied.

"You must hurry!" he said, as she walked briskly through the library and out the door into the dazzling sunlight beyond.

In the hours they had been underground, the sun had risen. It was near to noon by Adahni's gauge. With the sun out and the path sure and solid beneath her feet, she kept pace with the ranger up the hill to the highest point in Arvahn, where the song portal still stood, shimmering slightly.

"Don't ever say I didn't get the job done," the ranger said, "Are you ready for what lies ahead?"

"I never have been," Adahni said, "But I've managed to muddle through until now."

"It's more dangerous now," Bishop said, "I can feel it."

"Yes," she agreed, "At least this time, I'll be prepared for what's on the other side of that portal."

"Yeah," he said, "No sense in putting it off any longer." He slung one arm about her shoulder.

She did what she had the last time, and sung the song she'd always sung.

_I'm a rambler, I'm a gambler, I'm a long way from home..._

As she sang 'home,' the note quivering in the shimmering air of the song portal, she saw the materials of the world divide in two, and she fell in. She landed on her feet in a dark place, bending her knees into the stone floor of the Illefarn ruins in the swamp. She was not, however, prepared for what she was seeing. Though there were torches burning in the sconces, they did not give very much light. Instead of facing shadow priests or demons, she found herself surrounded by the ghostly grinning faces of her friends and neighbors. They flickered slightly, and moved with the unnatural, jerky motions of the undead, their faces twisted into maniacal, almost grimacing smiles.

"Bishop..." she shouted, casting about for the ranger, but he didn't reply. She scrambled to her feet, looking at the wide, ghastly eyes of the people she had known and loved in life, now reduced to pale shades of themselves in death. She came quickly to one, sickening realization as the circle of spectral villagers advanced slowly on her.

The portal had only taken her. The ranger was still standing alone in the ruins of Arvahn, probably shouting every curse in the book at the portal which had left him behind.

She was alone.


	91. A Fork in the Road

"What are you doing here, Addie?" asked Retta - or the shade the resembled Retta. She - it - cocked her head to the side as she often did when she asked a question in life, but this pale semblance of her turned her head too far, so that it rested sideways on her neck. Adahni shuddered. "You don't belong here in this place of dead things..."

The rest of the villagers mimicked 'Retta,' and Adahni found herself being stared at by a hundred dead eyes, on dead faces, turned sideways on dead throats. The smell caught her full in the nostrils, the smell of decay, of meat gone off, of flesh that had rotted on the bone and then got up and walked into the Mere. She gagged, but managed to keep her dinner down, resolving to breathe only through her mouth from that point forward.

She looked at them for a long moment before responding, trying to ascertain their nature. It was clearly not Retta standing before her - or not all Retta. She looked into her eyes, searching for some spark of recognition, but saw only the flat and sightless gaze of the dead. "I have a mission," Adahni said, stalwartly. Whatever force was moving the broken corpses of her townsfolk to torment her in this way evidently did not know what she sought.

"She has a mission," parroted Retta, keeping her head at the unnatural angle.

"She has a mission," repeated the rest of the townsfolk. Adahni put her hand on the hilt of her blade, but none of the animated dead made any move to assault her, so she left it in its sheath, her mind racing with a thousand ways she could try to get out of this without resorting to hacking up the remains of people she had known her whole life.,

"Now you're going to want to let me by," Addie continued, her voice breaking, "I need to go now. You'll need to step aside."

"We'll need to step aside," Retta mimicked her.

"No we won't," the others countered.

"The Shadows say kill her," Retta said.

"We must obey the Shadows," Georg Redfell, his face hovering together in two pieces, animated by some dark magic, "Or they'll never let us leave. We will walk this land in our broken bodies until the end of time..."

Adahni looked at them, trying to discern their nature. At first, she had thought them shades, immaterial ghasts come to take the form of her companions. But now she saw, seeing the blackened eyes and bloated bodies, that they were corporeal. The King of Shadows had resurrected them, re-assembled the twisted and rotting bodies of of her neighbors into these doomed creatures, binding what was left of their spirits to this plane. That was the bargain he had struck with them, she realized, they would protect this small part of the Mere that was not utterly claimed, and if they did so, he would let them rest in peace.

"Let me by," she ordered, "I promise... I will make sure your spirits are set free."

"She says she can set us free," Retta reported.

"She can't set us free," an almost unfamiliar voice said. Adahni looked, and saw that Amie was among them, her face a ghastly green and her cornsilk hair clotted with dirt. Her sunken eyes looked upon Adahni ambivalently, absently.

He must have taken them from the graveyard as well, she realized, What a horrid thing...

"Yes I can!" she insisted, trying to swallow her fear, to find within her the bravado she needed to truly spin the emotions with her words. Not that she was entirely sure it would work on these undead remnants of people, but it was worth a try... "The Shadow whispers lies to you... if you kill me now, he will not let you pass on. He will keep you trapped here for eternity. If you let me pass, I will become more powerful than he is. I will defeat him, and the magic binding you to this torment will die with him!"

"She says she can defeat him," Retta said. She turned her head back the normal way around, and for the first time, a spark lit up the back of her flat, lifeless eyes, "She says if we let her pass we can defeat him."

"Can she defeat him?" Georg asked.

"I can defeat him," Adahni said, "Either way you have nothing to lose... if I am lying, then you are no worse off than you are now. He will never set you free."

"The Shadow is lying!" shrieked Webb Mossfeld, "She's right! He will never set us free! Let her pass!"

"Let her pass!" the echo came, "Take her to the village with us!"

Like a well-disciplined army, the ranks of the undead parted, and Adahni walked between them. They followed her out into the Mere, which was much darker and danker than she remembered, and they trailed her. She began to get used to the stench of death and be glad for the company, especially as she saw the shadows start to creep out of the Mere in the corner of her vision, and saw her undead entourage stomp and beat them back. They progressed slowly, Adahni and her escort, through the Mere and into the village. From the top of the shallow hill on which Westharbor was situated, Adahni looked down upon the scar upon the earth that was her goal. From the distance and in the darkness, she realized that it mimicked the shape of the scar on her breast where the final shard of the Sword of Gith lay cleaved to her breastbone. They proceeded to the village, a somber funeral march where the mourners were dead themselves, to the scar, where Adahni knelt upon the bare ground and fumbled in her bag, managing to pull out all of the shards in a haphazard pile on the ground. She sat crosslegged in front of it, and realized that she had absolutely no idea what to do.

She looked up and around at the place she had once called home and felt a crackle of magic go down her spine. She sat up straight, feeling it run through her. It wasn't a bad feeling, indeed, it was rather thrilling. She looked up, and saw, above her, something she didn't think you could see. The tender threads of magic swirling through the air showed themselves to her like a silvery spiderweb.

"The Weave!" she murmured. She had heard tales of people being able to see it, but they were all people with extraordinary abilities, people who were fated for great things. She reached one hand into the air and saw the threads of magic drawn to her and wind themselves around her wrist like friendly snakes. She pulled them down gently, feeling little resistance, and took two shards in her other hand. She tied them together with the threads of magic like she would have tied together two sticks. To her amazement, the shards became malleable, and fused into one piece. She added another, and another, and soon it had formed itself into a broad blade, wider than the one she usually bore. She rose, and hefted it in her hands, and felt a strong jolt of magic as she fenced with the shadows. The power of the Weave filled her, and she felt invincible, dancing back and forth from one foot to the other, fighting imaginary enemies. She saw, as the sword sliced through the rank and rotting air, the shadows writhe and withdraw and soon, all around the scar upon the earth, there was a patch of light.

"I'm coming for you!" she shouted to the swamp and woods and shadows all around.

"She's coming for you," echoed the undead villagers. They still encircled her, but had turned their backs to her, and now stood so they surrounded her protectively.

"You will fall!" she cried.

"The Shadow will fall," echoed Retta.

"The Shadow will fall," the rest of the villagers murmured.

"The Shadow will fall!" she cried.

As a group, Adahni walked and the villagers shambled back towards the ruins in the Mere. She stopped, short, though, when she heard her name being called. She turned to see the ranger sprinting towards her over the dying land of her home village. Fear rose her in her throat involuntarily. _One does not simply walk into the Claimed Lands,_ she thought, _How did he get here?_

"Oh, good Gods I'm not too late," he said as he drew close, "We've got to get out of here, the shadow is closing upon us as we speak."

"How did you get here?" she asked slowly. The undead villagers had turned their flat gazes to him, but made no move to attack or stop him.

"That's not important," he said, "What's important is that we get out now, and then go far, far away from here."

"The song portal's that way," Adahni said, her mind racing in a thousand directions, how he could have possibly gotten into Westharbor without using it.

"The portal has closed, why do you think I couldn't follow you? There's a safe path through, though," he said, but she could tell he was lying - or at the very least leaving out some very important details, "Come on."

"You couldn't follow me because I was supposed to be here alone," she replied, "It would not let you through because this is not your quest to fulfill."

The ranger stood silent at this, as though this thought had not even occurred to him.

"Give me a moment," she said, and turned to the villagers.

"I swear," she said, to Retta, to Amie, to Georg, "I swear that I will end this torment."

"She swears," Retta chirped.

"She will end our torment," the villagers echoed.

"I've gotten you through this far," Bishop said, grasping her elbow, "Please, just trust me."

She nodded, numbly, having no choice but to follow him. They took the northern path out of the village, that which would have sent them by the Weeping Widow inn where she had first met Khelgar more than a year before. An odd thing happened, though, as she walked along it. Before her, the shadows dissipated, and she could breathe a little easier. She felt the magic of the Weave coursing through her veins like fire, propelling her forward, each step onto the swampy path felt like a rebellion, and it nourished her. She could see ahead of them in the distance a great crack of sunlight, a hole in the impenetrable barrier that the King of Shadows had erected around the Mere. They reached it after an hour or two, and she felt free and light as she stepped through it and into the untainted land beyond. It was mid afternoon, and just beginning to snow. She breathed the cold, dry air, for a moment, and then whirled to face the ranger.

"How did you get into the Claimed Lands without them taking the very life from your body?" Adahni demanded, "One does not simply stroll in like it is nothing. Even if I believed for a moment you knew about this crack in the barrier, how did it not eat you alive? And why did it not kill us where we stood?"

"Never mind that, Addie," Bishop said, "We have to leave this land."

"What?"

"What have you done?" she asked in dismay, as the realization of what must have happened hit her full in the stomach, "Oh, Bishop, what have you done..."

"We need to leave. Tonight," he said, "Get on a ship for Calumshan or Amn or the Spine of the World. We can outrun it, Addie, but we have to leave now."

"Why?" Adahni asked.

"Just because you're willing to sacrifice yourself for this doesn't mean I'm willing to sacrifice you," Bishop said, "Please..."

"You've done something awful, haven't you..." Adahni said slowly, her voice growing thick in her throat, "Yes, I think it's best if you left this land."

"If I hadn't, you would have been swallowed up in that swamp," Bishop said, "Now for the love of all the Gods, let's go!"

"No, Bishop," she said, shaking her head slowly, the angry tears coursing down her cheeks, "I will not be leaving. I will stay, and I will hold the line even as it claims me."

They were silent a long moment, looking at each other, each wondering if there was something they could say to make the other realize how rash they were being. She stepped forward awkwardly, and he put his arms around her.

"Please, Addie," he said, "Don't do this."

"I have to," she replied.

They stood another long minute as the snow fell slowly from the sky and nested in their hair and cloaks. Neither wanted to let go, but each knew that they would have to. It was the ranger that let her go first and stepped back, and turned to leave. Every footfall twisted Adahni's heart a little more. She turned to walk along her own path, when he paused and turned.

"Don't ever let them tell you I didn't love you," he called.

She said nothing, only nodded miserably, turned and began the long day's journey back to the Keep.


	92. The Shadows

Bishop didn't know how long the shadows had been creeping up on him, but they had been dogging him in the corners of his peripheral vision for a month or more. He had noticed them first when he left Adahni with Elanee to go meet the remnants of the Circles of the Mere. He had gone off on a scouting expedition after leaving them at the edge, looking for another way into the Claimed Lands. He had found it all right, further east and south, but that was where he had first seen them. Shadows, simple absences of light, and then they started talking to him, whispering to him, following him wherever he went, no matter how far he strayed from the Claimed Lands.

_It's your nature, boy,_ they would hiss at him sometimes, _you really have no choice in the matter._ He ignored them mostly, but when the song portal slammed closed on him and sent him back on his ass on the ground at Arvahn, they leapt up like fish out of the water. _We can help you. You can have her back._

He focused for the first time. They barely took shape, just black puddles, yellow eyes peering out of a pool of darkness on the ground.

_What is she to you? To us she is a threat. But you, you can neutralize that threat... You know this quest will kill her. But you can save her! We will let you in, yes we will, you can save her. Then, you can save us. Take her away, neutralize her, we don't care how you do it..._

"She won't come away," he said, "She won't..."

_Then you'll have to find another way. You have killed many, many before. She will not be so different._

He sat there for a moment that felt like an hour. Adahni was gone, winked out through the song portal. For all he knew, the whole thing had been a trap. She was within the Claimed Lands with no way out. Or, he thought, the shadows were baiting him.

_Stupid boy, this is the only way she will live._

In either of the two situations, she would not defeat the King of Shadows. She would perish in the Claimed Lands trying to put that damned sword back together, or she would survive and then be defeated. Or... she might do it. She might beat it. That beaten down whore from the Luskan Docks might stand.

Or she might fall.

Either way, he would have to strike a bargain. He would go in. Pull her out. Maybe there was the ghost of a chance that she'd do it. Come with him. Run off into the wilds never to be seen again._ Oh good Gods, Bishop, and what would you do with her then?_

The shadows would want to be paid.

She wouldn't come with him. He would have to find another way. He was very good at making himself scarce. He could run, to Luskan, to Ruathym, even as close as Neverwinter... he would be far enough away. They would not find him.

And if she failed?

I would not be the first to fall on my sword, he though grimly.

"All right!" he called out to the hills and the shadows all around, "Let me in. I'll take care of her!"

Good boy, the shadows whispered, Find her. We will clear a path for you out of the Claimed Lands. You, you clever thing, you found the crack in the barrier that surrounds us.

He saw the song portal give a great shudder and reactivate, the swirling clouds looking much too peaceful for the dread that was churning in his stomach. He stepped through, into the darkness.

_Either way_, he thought, with more regret than he cared to admit, _this is the last I will see of her. _


	93. A Strange World

All at once Adahni felt very old, trudging over hill and dale. She could have stopped at an inn or snatched a few hours of sleep in a haystack, but she just wanted to get home to her own bed and be surrounded by people who at least nominally gave a damn about her. She just kept putting one foot in front of the other, again, and again and again. Her feet grew sore, her joints cold, but she just kept walking.

_Don't ever let them tell you I didn't love you. _

The words repeated themselves in her head. She never really had any delusions about the liaison between herself and the ranger. They were always just two pieces of flotsam tossed together by an angry sea. At one point or another they would have drifted apart - or killed each other.

_Don't ever let them tell you I didn't love you._

She supposed he had loved her, in his way, as much as he could. She remembered the first time they had gone into Luskan Territory with them, how they had stopped at the ruin of Barnslow and he had stayed in that barn with the burned rope hanging from the rafter, and the tale had told her, huddled in the heather one cold autumn night a year before. How the mother of the family had hung herself, jumped off of the hayloft with a noose around her neck. How could a boy who had seen such sadness grow into any other type of man? It was his fate, in a way, she thought. A sad fate, but one that she could not save him from.

And now?

And now she would return to sleeping alone and not distract herself with such silliness.

She arrived back at the Keep well after midnight. The Greycloaks manning the walls saluted her, and she gave them a weak little wave and wandered up to her chamber. At least, she thought, the ranger did her the courtesy of not leaving her his things to put away. She tugged off her armor and underclothes slid a woolen nightgown over her head, for winter had set in in earnest. In the dark, she crawled under the cover, and to her surprise, she was not alone. She darted back a moment, but putting out one tentative hand found that it was just the wolf, Karnwyr, who had evidently decided that taking her master's place in Addie's bed was exactly the right thing to do.

"So he's left you too, huh?" Addie said, taking her share of the blankets.

Karnwyr yawned and grunted and licked her face, and then got up and went to the foot of the bed, curled up and went to sleep. Adahni smiled, pulled the covers to her chin, and slept like the dead.

She awoke the next morning to her name being called. She clambered out of bed, wincing as her bare feet hit the frigid tile, and went out into the hallway still in her nightgown to see what all the fuss was about.

"My lady!" Casavir exclaimed, "You've returned! And the sword?"

"It's somewhere under my dirty laundry," Adahni said.

"I've been worried sick," he said. He peered past her into her chamber. "Where's..."

"He's not here," Adahni said, "And I don't imagine he'll be returning. I would really, really prefer not to discuss that with you, though. The important part is that we have the sword."

"Aye, that it is," he replied, "I never had a chance to apologize for my mother. She can be quite a... well, character."

"Does she still think she'll be wintering here?"

"Yes," he said, "In fact she should be arriving around noon today. I will, of course, make room for her in my flat. It's been terribly empty since Vania left, and it will be nice to have the company. Provided, of course, that my lady consents."

"Your lady does indeed consent," Adahni said, remembering with a start that this whole episode had been touched off by the very strange nocturnal visit that Lana Andarion had paid her, "But she would also like the time to wash herself and put on some proper clothes before dealing with any other... erm... issues that may arise."

"Ah yes, of course, my lady," the paladin said, the words tumbling out of his mouth, "I am sorry to have woken you."

"Not to worry," she said, "It's always comforting to know when one cares whether I live or die."

Being a noble of Neverwinter did have its perks, and one of them was the ability to get a hot bath in winter in a drafty castle. Adahni, herself a member of the class of people who would have found themselves lucky to be a servant in a fine home, found it awkward to have servants do things for her, but at the same time... hot water was quite a brilliant thing to have on hand. She scrubbed the sweat and muck and rot of the Claimed lands off her. She emerged, scrubbed and oiled and dressed in the dress and soft house shoes of a lady. She had to admit, she rather enjoyed playing the part. For so many years, her femininity had been a tool of her trade, the way she manipulated men into her bed to spend the scant coppers of their week's pay in her arms. She had fought it when she returned to Westharbor, preferring her face bare and her hair tied up and her figure hidden under armor. But now that she was a knight and a noble, and the lady of a fine castle, she could allow herself the luxury of feeling pretty every now and then. She smudged paints on her eyes and cheeks as she had before, just enough to give her a darker, more mysterious look. Feeling less like a child playing at king of the castle, she went to the library to check in with Sand.

"Ah, there you are," he said, not looking up from his book as she entered, "I thought you'd be back one of these days. Fancy trick you pulled, leaving me in Old Owl Well with nobody but the Gith and the paladin for company."

"Yes, I've been meaning to discuss that with you," Adahni said, and related to him the very strange encounter she had had two nights before with Casavir's mother appearing in her chamber. Sand listened intently, but seemed rather bored when it became clear that nothing untoward had happened between the two women, but then gradually became more interested.

"Ah yes, so that is the meaning of that note you left me," he said, "What was her name?"

"Lana Andarion," she replied, "She didn't seem very intelligent when we first met, but it appears..."

"It appears there is more beneath the surface, yes, yes, quite interesting," Sand mused, "You said she'll be arriving here later today?"

Adahni nodded, "Yes, I imagine she will be."

"Where's your shadow?" he asked, "Bishop get lost in the swamp? Or did you get annoyed with him and cut off his head?"

"He's gone," Adahni said, "I don't feel like talking about it."

"Ah, so you did murder him. Too bad, the boy was beginning to grow on me."

_Don't ever let them tell you I didn't love you._

"Anyway, the important part is really about this Tome of Iltkazar. The old bat and I have been extrapolating, it being the last thing we need to get in there and smite this bugger they call the King of Shadows. We have determined that it is likely in the possession of one of those Shadow Reavers that Ammon Jerro has been going on about."

"Well considering the frequency with which we seem to encounter them." Adahni said, "I suppose why might get lucky, and the King of Shadows himself might send it to us with one of its minions. Not that I expect too much strategy from a millenia-old shade holed up in the Mere of Dead Men, but he hasn't seemed to realize that we have managed to beat down every one of his offensives to date, and without meaningful casualties."

"He's not very bright, I agree," Sand said, nodding, "But what he lacks in cleverness he makes up for in numbers. The dead beneath the land outnumber us a thousand to one - he has a limitless and undying army at his disposal."

"Then I suppose we will have to be clever," Adahni said, raising her eyebrows.

"And that," he said, "Is why you have me around."

"Indeed," Adahni agreed.

"This is much more fun than paying politics in Luskan... though I don't like my chances of winding up dead beneath the ground myself," Sand said, "Though I suppose there's not much choice... Luskan, Neverwinter alike will fall if something is not done."

Adahni nodded, having grown used to such nihilistic statements, nodded, "The Greycloaks are training. The defense are being built. We don't have much else we can do about it."

They were interrupted by Sir Nevalle, who had taken up residence in one of the towers. He burst into the library, armor clanking, "Is it true?" he asked, "I have heard you have reforged the sword!"

"I have," Adahni replied.

"Excellent!" Nevalle said, clapping his gauntleted hands together, "Come, I want to show you the garrisons that have been completed. They are quite magnificent if I do say so myself."

Adahni nodded and took her leave of Sand, following Nevalle out into the courtyard. They had barely started down the hill when a breathless young Greycloak sprinted up to them, his face red and the sweat dripping down his face.

"Sir Nevalle! Captain!" he shouted, "I've just come from the roadside. Callum and his men came pursued by blade golems, led by a... a... I don't know what it is. I've never seen anything like it. It's tall as an ogre and dark as night."

"A shadow reaver," Nevalle said, the first intelligent thing out of his mouth in the months she had known him, "And pursuing Callum for a reason, no doubt. Soldier, where is he now?"

"He's down at the roadside, sir. He and his men are holding off those - those monstrocities! I think they're in trouble."

"Just what we need now," grumbled Nevalle, "Most of the patrols are out of the Keep or on training rotation. I'll go gather some men, but by the time we're ready to move, it may be too late - Captain, see what you can do to help Callum and stop that Shadow Reaver, no go!"

"I need to armor up," she said, "Get Ammon Jerro, Sand, and Khelgar or Casavir, whoever you find first, and tell them to meet me out by the roadside immediately."

Nevalle started to protest that he was not her errand boy, but shut his mouth halfway through and scurried off to do her bidding. Adahni sprinted up the hill and back into her chamber, peeling off stockings as she went. In less than five minutes she was back in her usual get-up, the Sword of Gith by her side. Nevalle was true to his word, and Sand, Jerro, and both the dwarf and the paladin were there waiting for her at the roadside. Down the hill, they could see Callum, that sturdy dwarf knight, and his Greyclocks, facing off against another Shadow Reaver, its grinning skull of a head bobbing slightly on the neck of its robe.

"You will die like those in Highcliff," the Reaver rumbled ominously, "But I shall not soil myself with your blood."

"What foul magic is this?" Callum cried as four blade golems surrounded him.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" Adahni shouted to her companions, and charged down the hill.

"Captain!" Callum called to her, dodging a blow, "You must know that Highcliff has fallen. Tell Nevalle. We can't..." The distraction from the fight proved to be his downfall. As he turned back to his adversary, the glinting blade swept down and cleaved into his chest. He fell, gurgling. Adahni covered her mouth with her hand at the sight of it.

"Ah, Nasher," Callum sighed, "I failed..."

The Shadow Reaver looked from Callum's bleeding body up to Adahni. "You... my prey was the cowards who fled the conquest of Highcliff, but you are an unexpected prize. The King of Shadows will reward me greatly for bringing your lifeless husk before him in the Vale."

Adahni looked the Reaver in the place where his eyes should be and began to laugh, softly at first, but then louder until the hills rang. Catching her breath and wiping her eyes, she sighed and said, "When I reach the Vale, your King's moments will be numbered. I would dearly love to send you back to tell him that yourself, but I think you or one of your brothers have something I need, and so I'll be destroying you now."

"I have heard of how you... dispatched the lesser among our cabal. He was an overconfident fool. You will find me more than a match for you."

"Keep it occupied while I read the name," Ammon ordered, producing the scroll from one of his voluminous sleeves.

"I think we'll be a bit busy with these blade golems," Khelgar said, "I've been wanting to dismantle one of those buggers for some time now!" With a fierce cry, the dwarf raced down the hill, axe raised high. Adahni echoed him, her voice shrill and fire spurting from her mouth. The paladin, quieter, followed her.

The Sword of Gith, to her amazement, sliced cleanly through the iron of the first blade golem, sending it in two pieces onto the ground. Khelgar's axe punched a hole in one of the others as he laid into it, hacking it to pieces like a pile of lumber. Casavir called on some sort of mystical light that scattered whatever dark curse was animating the golems and his mace put dents in its bodies and shattered its blades. The Reaver was watching all this. Without a face to speak of, it was hard to gauge his expression, but Adahni got the sense that he was getting very, very nervous.

"Now, Adahni!" barked Ammon, having finished his incantation.

She turned and stood before the Reaver, looking up at it with a grin on her face, "You have managed to take from me many things I held dear," she said, "You and your brothers and your disgusting little cousins in the Mere. So here, I am going to take something from you."

She screamed her fury at him, fire spouting from her mouth, and drove the Sword of Gith deep into the Reaver's chest. Like his brother in the wilderness, the life force animating the Shadow Reaver spurted out, dissipating into the gray sky of winter. It collapsed into a pile of bones and robes.

"Adahni!" she heard Nevalle's voice call from the hill above. He jogged up to her, looking distastefully at the remains of the Shadow Reaver. "It seems I arrived too late to help you... and Callum as well, it seems. This war has cost us much... and it is not yet over." He went over and knelt by Callum's side.

"Neither of us could have been fast enough to save Callum." Adahni said, wiping the sweat from her brow.

"But... why was he here? He was tasked with holding Highcliff," Nevalle said, rolling the dwarf on his back and shutting his eyes with his hand.

"Highcliff has fallen," Adahni said.

"A reaver falls and so does Highcliff," Nevalle sighed, "It seems no matter what our victories, the Kiung of Shadows' influence grows. I must bear this news to Lord Nasher - we will need to ready the Neverwinter forces to march on Highcliff. But before we commit our soldiers, Crossroad Keep must be prepared. Make whatever preparation you need at your keep, then speak to me when all is ready for the army to march on Highcliff."

"It seems the Shadow Reaver has granted us a boon... with its death, we have the tome it held, the Tome of Iltkazar," Ammon Jerro called from where he was stooped, rummaging through the bones.

Sand clapped his hands as if to say "I told you so." "May I see it?" he asked, "My, I never thought to actually look upon it... this is an amazing find. We should take it to Aldanon at once, he can help me... us... unlock its secrets."

Nevalle's Greycloaks had busied themselves, taking Callum out for burial. The rest of them went back up to the castle. Adahni went up the back way and into the library, Sand and Ammon Jerro at her heels.

In the library, she found Aldanon and Qara, and along with them was Casavir's mother, who had evidently arrived while they were down at the roadside. She and Aldanon were poring over a large tome, intently. She looked up quickly as they entered, her gaze falling first on Adahni, and then on Sand.

"Oh, Adayni!" she exclaimed, "So glad you're safe. It was such a dreadful journey here. It hasn't stopped snowing!"

"Lovely to see you as well," Adahni said, "I see you have acquainted yourself with my library."

"Yes, yes, I have!" Lana exclaimed, her gaze falling on Sand again, "Why, Sand, aren't you going to say hello to an old friend?"

Adahni turned and looked at Sand, whose jaw was on the floor, "My lady..." he stammered, "I never thought I would lay eyes on you again."

"Yes, the years have been harder on me than they have on you, I see," she said, running a hand over her graying hair, "A little bird told me that the last person who wanted me dead found herself in a twisted heap at the bottom of a tower in this very castle. And so, with no reason to fear for my safety on the Sword Coast, I thought I might return to seek out an old friend. Imagine my surprise when I find you in the company of my own son..."

"The world is a strange place," Sand said, "It is good to see you after all these years, Lady Fairus."

"It's Andarion now," Lana replied, "I haven't gone by Kailana Fairus in years."


	94. A Few Frayed Nerves

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Adahni said, sitting down in one of the dusty old chairs that dotted the library. The ensuing cloud of dust made her sneeze several times, and she had to take a moment to regain her composure.

"Oh, don't tell me you're that surprised," Lana said, "People don't just disappear after all. I see word of my exploits has reached the ears of the Knight Captain of Crossroad Keep?"

"Thanks to Sand, yes," Adahni said.

"Oh, I'm sure Sand told you part of it. He did always have such a high opinion of me, after all. You didn't tell her about that, did you?" Lana said, raising her eyebrows and letting her blue gaze fall upon the elf.

"It explains why you were so intent on knowing whether I traveled with a Moon Elf," Adahni said.

"Oh, Adayni," Lana giggled, "I do think you and I are kindred spirits."

"For Tyr's sake, woman, it's Adahni," she snapped, "It's not that fucking hard."

Lana only giggled some more, evidently gleeful about all the fuss she was causing, "I have heard so much about you."

"You don't know the half of it," Adahni said, truthfully.

"And you can only imagine what I've figured out from the little I've been told. My dear son has sent me letters, after all, he does seem to admire you."

"Casavir is..."

"He's a fool," Lana said, "I hate to say it about my own flesh and blood, but he is, just like his father was. The only reason he's not a monster, too, is because there was nobody to turn him into one."

"Casavir is Evendyn's son," Adahni said, giving voice to the fear that had been rumbling in her stomach since Lana Andarion's old name was pronounced.

"Oh, who knows," Lana sighed derisively, "Why do people always care so much about these silly things? Yes, I suppose it's possible, but it's just as likely to be one of my other lovers. The chimney sweep, or that handsome wizard's apprentice from the Hosttower... who knows really? I would have suffered the consequences of being unfaithful whether or not I actually was or not - I decided I might as well have reaped the benefits."

"...I see," Adahni said. She remembered those dark days with Dayven. Her imaginary infidelities. All the times he accused her of enjoying what she did with those sailors, those dockworkers, all those things she was forced to do. She found herself sympathizing with Lana. She, too, knew the despair of being tied to a monster. But she had let it turn her against her own son. And if I had had a child? If Dayven or one of my clients had given me a child who lived? Would I not have resented him too? "He doesn't know, does he. Who you are, even."

"No," Lana replied, "We left for Neverwinter shortly after his birth, it was too dangerous for anybody to know who I was. That lasted a good sixteen years. Then, when Torio became ambassador, I had to leave the Sword Coast with my husband. I wanted Casavir to come with me, but he had entered the knighthood and would not hear of it. So it was best that he not know where he came from. He was happy enough thinking himself a bastard raised begrudgingly by my second husband. I suggest," Lana said slyly looking at her, "That he is well into his thirties and not exactly the most emotionally stable of us. So I would suggest you keep your mouth shut."

"You think too little of your son," Adahni said, "He is an honorable man."

"Oh, honorable, yes, of course. He is nothing but honorable," Lana said contemptuously, "I wanted him to study the arcane arts, but no, he was too busy crossing swords with the other blade-slinging idiots to realize his potential."

"The chimney sweep must have been a good man," Adahni said, "Cas clearly didn't get his good nature from you."

Lana laughed out loud and patted Adahni on the head like a dog, in a gesture that was a little too similar to the one her son had done so many times over the past year. "I think we two are more similar than one would think at first glance." She sat down on the arm of the chair that Addie was sitting on, in a gesture that at once violated her personal space something dreadful and reminded her that Kailana, like Casavir, was more than a foot taller than her. "You seem to know who I am," she said, "Now tell me about you."

"Let's just say I've done you a few favors in the last several years," Adahni said, keeping her cool with a little effort, "And leave it at that. I would much rather talk about what it is you're going to do for me. I am, after all, allowing you to stay in my Keep."

"Me," Lana said, "I will be assisting Sand and Aldanon with their examination of the Tome of Iltkazar. A mind such as mine is wasted planning tea parties in Baldur's Gate. I want in on the action, and it seems as though most of it swirls around you." To punctuate this last word, she put her hand on the back of Adahni's neck in a gesture that made the knight captain jump a bit.  
"Indeed it is," she replied, pulling away and extricating herself from the chair.

"And I think you'll find me quite useful in the future," Lana said, "Anyway, you'd best get back to... whatever it is you do best. No need to entertain me, I'll be just fine here. Now you, Queera, can you fetch me one of those codices from the top shelf? My joints are far too stiff to climb ladders..."

Qara, in an odd show of obedience, immediately did her bidding. Adahni nodded to Sand, the necromancer, and Aldanon, and went off to have further words with the chimney sweep's son. She found him more quickly than she anticipated, standing right outside the library as though he had been forbidden to enter.

"Eavesdropping, are you?" she said.

"My lady!" Casavir stammered, "I was waiting for you... I wanted to..."

"I wanted to speak with you as well," she said, "Come, Kana wants to speak with you. With our work outside the Keep's walls done, I think she could use capable hands to exercise the troops. I remember how handily you trained Shandra. She's by the south wall, walk with me." They started down the hallway and into the main room. The Greycloaks guarding the keep had changed in the past weeks, Adahni observed as they passed. They had looked like mere beardless boys and girls fresh off the farm. Now they bristled with weaponry, their cloaks bearing the fearsome eye of Neverwinter, and on their faces was the grim hardened look of the warrior.

"There's a shadow army moving north out of the Claimed Lands," Casavir said, seeing her look over the troops, "Now that Highcliff has fallen, I fear that we may not have much more time."

"You think they will attack here? Not Neverwinter?" Adahni asked. She had secretly been hoping that the darkness moving across the land might take a turn and head for the nearest city, rather than washing over her little Keep on their way.

"They're plainly headed here," Casavir replied, "And our men can be counted in the hundreds. Their army is tens of thousands strong."

"We have often survived when at long odds," Adahni said, "I have seen you freeze and shatter the undead with a wish and a prayer. Khelgar has cut down a dozen orcs like a toddler squashes ants. Even little Grobnar is a brave and valiant fighter."

"And if every warrior under your command had half of your spirit, I would not fear for a moment," Casavir said, "But they are not like us. They are farmers, blacksmiths, weavers, most have never seen battle."

"They are fighting for their lives," Adahni said. They had emerged from the shadow of the Keep and out into the main courtyard. Workmen still scurried here and there, adding more defense where they could, "You would be surprised what a man is capable of when he has absolutely nothing left to lose. We can do nothing but wait, keep our men training, and hope for the best."

"And then?"

"And then, hopefully the little cabal in the library will have figured out how exactly to jump to where he resides in the Claimed Lands," Adahni said, "And we can take him down where he lives."

"Aye..." Casavir said, but his face was grave, "Seeing Callum fall... we had been at odds for some time. I regret that I never had a chance to make things right. I feel as though, had we known each other better, we might have been friends."

"Such is life," Adahni sighed in agreement, "Let's hope that this army is a slow-moving one. I hope I have enough time to reconcile with everyone I hope to." They were silent for a long moment, Adahni taking in the splendor of her lands in the winter, the snow clinging to the walls and covering the grass. When she looked up at the paladin, though, he was staring at her, his features stormy.

"Adahni, what happened to you?" Casavir asked. He stopped walking and put hands on her shoulders, making her face him. She looked up at him, matching his gaze in directness and intensity. She searched his face, looking intently for any vestige of the first man she'd killed. She saw nothing of it, only the earnest face of someone that seemed sincerely, if belatedly, concerned for her.

"Nothing's happened to me, Cas," she said.

"You have always been such a strange creature," he said, staring at her as though searching for something.

"A pigeon with the talons of a hawk," Adahni giggled, remembering what Ammon Jerro had called her - good Gods had it only been a week before?

"For Tyr's sake, I'm being serious!" he cried, shaking her by the shoulders, and then throwing up his hands. She instinctively winced and brought a hand up to her face to protect herself, suddenly back to being Dayven's wife and anticipating the next blow. She felt the blood rise to her face and turned so that he did not see the tears of frustration welling in her eyes. Gods damn it, two years out and the most feared woman this side of the Spine of the World and you're still afraid of a man!

"I'm sorry, my lady," Casavir said, grabbing her hand, hard enough to make her flinch again, "Oh good Gods, I didn't mean to..."

"I know you didn't mean to," Adahni said, regaining her composure, but removing her hand from his with a jerk, "It's not your fault. It's been a rough couple of days."

"So he is gone for good," the paladin said, tilting his head back and looking down his nose at her, "For good?"

"I don't know," Adahni replied, "Probably. It's not important and it's really not any of your concern."

"It concerns you," Casavir said, "You are charged with the wellbeing of this Keep and all those who dwell therein."

"Is the Keep that dependent on my emotional state, Cas? If so, I would be an irresponsible leader indeed."

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant, I am concerned with your wellbeing. As a friend," Casavir said, his arms crossed in what was not quite a friendly manner.

She chuckled, "You could have just said that." She felt an inkling of an old feeling, the almost compulsive desire not to disappoint him. "The ranger and I..." she started, struggling with a way to explain it to the paladin in a way that would both make him understand and not lead to him hating her, "He spoke to a part of my soul that I don't indulge very often," she said finally.

"A very dark part," Casavir said, "One that I am not acquainted with."

"Please, Cas," she said, "About the darkest thing you're acquainted with is Khelgar's dirty socks." She paused, "All right, maybe that's a bad way of putting it. Suffice it to say that, in the end, he did what he thought was best."

"Did he!" scoffed Cas, "And a good riddance..."

"Please!" she said, putting a hand on his arm, "Please, Cas. You don't know him..."

"Oh yes, I don't know him as you do... Tell me," Casavir said, "Did you say that about the husband who used to beat you? When your friends asked you why you wouldn't leave him?"

Adahni's first instinct was to slap him soundly across the face, her second to burst into tears and flee, but she went with her third instinct, which was to talk a breath slowly and say, "I know that you don't like him, but that's a serious accusation you're making, and I can assure you that it holds no merit." Her fourth instinct, though, she also gave in to, "You know, having met your mother, I can see that you just can't help judging others, can you."

The paladin's pale face went beet red, and she knew that she'd found the magic words, "I am sorry, my lady," he said, "I should know better than to engage in a battle of words with a bard. It's just... I wish to protect you. It was easy enough when I could simply thrust myself between you and the enemy, but when such a dangerous man was..." he paused, a look of disgust passing over his face, "You slept next to him."

"Aye, I did," she said, "He's not all that dangerous. His bark is bigger than his bite."

"Like that wolf of his, I imagine," Casavir said, "Either way, he's gone now. I am... sorry, I suppose, that it distresses you so, but I cannot lie. I will sleep easier knowing you sleep alone."

"I do appreciate your honesty," she said, "I must take my leave of you, Casavir. I have some words to exchange with Neeshka." _And by words I mean shots of whiskey._

"I would appreciate your honesty as well," the paladin said, "Tell me this - are you in love with him?"

"If I am," Adahni said, "Then it's going to be a long, cold, lonely winter."


	95. One Night in Luskan

The Cuckoo's Nest lay hidden as it always had down an alley, next to the water. A place for a man to get drunk in peace and anonymity. It was near midnight when Bishop wandered in off the docks, tossed Kath a handful of copper and grunted that he'd need a room and he'd pay extra to keep the whores from pestering him while he got good and shitfaced. Kath was nonplussed, as though she'd been expecting him through the doors. It was a five day's journey from Westharbor and he'd barely slept, barely counted the number of times the sun set until he was far, far away. He'd reached Luskan earlier that morning and spent the morning walking the streets he'd walked as a child. Some things had changed, but more things had stayed the same. Not the least of which was the Nest, which still stood as though it had grown out of the very cobblestones and wood of the Luskan docks. As much as he hated the whole place, he found an odd sense of nostalgia. That dreadful school that Kyla had sent him to - as if he ever had it in him to be a scholar! The flat they'd shared, the roof that she'd shed blood and tears to be able to afford. The alley where he'd first laid eyes on Addie. She was much taller then, or rather, she was the same height and he was a lad of eleven. She didn't look like any woman he'd ever seen. He'd seen dark-skinned black-haired women from the south before, mostly who worked the docks or the bars like Kyla did, but she had a glow about her. She'd never lost it, even in her darkest hour.

It was always a little odd, sitting and drinking downstairs from where that murder most foul had taken place, from where his sister - he would never be able to think of her as his mother, regardless of whether she'd given birth to him - had turned her tricks to keep him fed. He started making habit of stopping by the Nest for a drink when he would take a jaunt into Luskan on Duncan's behalf. The assassins didn't bother with the low-class dockside bars; ever since the pirates had been all be driven out, the men they were concerned with could afford to drink in fancier places. He'd gone to the place a few times after Kyla's death, and something kept drawing him back there whenever he was within Luskan's walls. It seemed to him that there was something there that he ought to be looking for, something he could never quite put his thumb on and that he had yet to find.

One good thing about Luskan, he thought, they let you smoke inside. Sal raised holy hells whenever anyone - even the knight captain herself - dared to light up at the Phoenix Tail Inn. He rolled up a smoke, a habit he'd picked up from Addie, and lit it off one of the lanterns on the table. Blowing smoke into the air, he ordered a whiskey, and then another. Kath was tending bar, and smiled as she pushed the tumblers across to him.

"And where've you been, Kyrwan?" she asked, "Haven't seen you in months."

"Places," he replied, purposely cryptic. Kath was used to it. Decades tending bar in a glorified whorehouse leaves you with more questions than answers, after all. "Don't suppose I'll be back long," he added. The matronly proprietress, while not precisely taken the lad under her wing, liked seeing that he was all right. She must have felt she bore a certain amount of the blame for Kyla's fate.

"And where is it you'll go?" Kath asked.

"I was hoping to make it to Icewind Dale before the ice clogs the harbor," Bishop said, "Do you know when the next ship will leave?"

Kath let loose a chuckle, "Have you been under a rock, lad? The ships don't just leave the Harbor any more. We're gearing up for the war of our lifetimes. All the crafts have been commandeered by the Navy."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Bishop muttered, not relishing crossing the Spine of the World in the winter. Perhaps he could go upriver, as far inland as he could, away from the advancing shadows. They had been nipping at his heels the whole way up the Sword Coast. It worked if he ignored them, but it took concentration. He had barely slept for that reason. Every time he felt his eyes get heavy they would pop up, laughing at him. _You think you can outrun us, foolish boy! You're not as clever as weee are..._

"It'll be over soon," Kath said, "Rumor has it the dead men are rising, sweeping over the land. Marching on Crossroad Keep, some pithy little castle over the border in Neverwinter Territory!"

"Is that so," Bishop muttered.

"I've seen some strange things in my time." Kath said, chuckling, "Aye, some strange things indeed. Never thought the end of the world would look like this."

"End of the world, eh?" Bishop said._ Of course, she's right. This is not the darkness of a normal winter. This is the darkness that comes right before the light disappears for the last time. And here I am, back where this whole mess started... for me at least._

At the end of a the room, a minstrel, a very young woman with red curls and green eyes, tuned up a mandolin and started to play clumsily. She was playing, but she wore black rose indicating her availability for the night. She was no great talent with that thing, Bishop observed, but she wasn't that bad. The three glasses of whiskey he'd drunk and the ales he'd washed them down with probably help his opinion of the music, he thought cynically. Not bad for the end times.

_Oh wilt thou go wi' me, sweet love o' my heart_  
_Oh wilt thou go wi' me, sweet love o' my heart_  
_Wilt thou ride on a horse or be drawn in a cart_  
_Or walk by my side oh, sweet love o' my heart_

The girl's voice was very high pitched and she had an accent of some kind , a thick one that obscured the words to the song. She sang plaintively and with her native drawl. He remembered the song all of a sudden. Addie had sung it once, though in the dialect that the two of them had grown up speaking, so it wasn't so hard to understand. _For fuck's sake, is there nowhere she won't follow me?_ He lit another smoke and puffed at it irritably.

_I care not thy station, thy land or thy money_  
_I care not thy kin, sae high and sae lordly_  
_But say that thou'll take me for better or wor' _  
_And come in thy coatie, sweet love o' my heart_

He was lying in his bunkroom at the Sunken Flagon. They'd just played a drinking game, she and he and the demon girl and that damned paladin who was always sticking his nose right where it didn't belong. And he'd stalked off. It was the first time Addie had acknowledged what she'd done, the last time she'd seen him, a lad of seventeen who'd kissed her in the dark. Something about it had overwhelmed him - with what? Anger? He supposed it must have looked like anger. And then he'd heard her. Sulking in the bunkroom he had nothing to do but listen to what was going on next door, and it was the first time he'd really stopped and listened to her sing. Her speaking voice was gruff and peppered with curse words, but when she sang, something in it lightened and lifted, and she sounded sweet as a linnet.

_I can offer you nae thing in sil'er or land_  
_What man could determine the price of yer hand?_  
_But gin ye consent we'll be richer by far_  
_Oh wilt thou go wi' me sweet love of my heart?_

_Oh wilt thou be known as a poor beggars lady_  
_Tae sleep in the heather rolled up in my plaidie_  
_The skies for a roof and yer candle a star_  
_My love for a fire, sweet love o' my heart_

He pounded down two more whiskeys and grunted for another. Kath looked at him, an expression of motherly worry on her face, "The ends ain't going to come any easier if you're too shitfaced to see em," she said, "And what's on your mind?"

"Things as have happened," he replied, "Hard to imagine this is all there is."

"Ain't no man ready for death," the proprietess said, "My old granddad lived to be a hundred and four, he did, and as he lay on his deathbed he looked at us all surrounding him. My dad and mum and aunts and uncles, all my cousins and sisters and their children, and he said 'Why is everyone gathered here? Am I dying?' We all had a good laugh, we thought he was a joker to the end but then his face got all frightened and he said 'But I don't want to die!'"

"And then what happened?"

"He was gone within the hour," Kath said, "It happens, Kyrwan, and the best we can do while we're on this plane is to stick by the ones as have stuck by us. We're all going to meet our end in one way or another, no sense in doing it alone."

He nodded. He nursed his last ale - he vowed it would be his last.

"Scuse me, sir? Is this seat taken?" the little redheaded bard was standing behind him. She was dressed in a green dress, the black rose pinned at her bodice looked as though it had grown there.

"Go 'head," he mumbled, and she took the stool next to him.

"Do you want to buy me a drink?" she asked. She asked her questions with an odd intonation.

"Whatever," he said. He was rich, compared to when he'd first come there. He could afford a few drams at a Luskan bar. Hells, if he sold half the things he'd won fighting by Addie's side he could probably buy the whole place. He shoved a few coins across the bar and Kath obligingly shoved a goblet of mead back.

"My name's Delinia," she said. He was staring into his drink. "Do you not care for female company?"

"I like female company just fine," he said back, not liking the implication.

"I saw you liked my song. That's why I came over here."

"It reminded me of someone," he replied gruffly.

"You have a sweetheart? Is she pretty?" Delinia asked, "Would she be mad that you're in a bar like this?"

"Do you always ask a lot of questions?" he asked, "I bought you a damn drink, will you piss off already?"

Delinia did not seem put off in the least by his dismissive language, "I was just asking is all. I was just curious. It must be awful boring, sitting there and drinking and not talking to anybody."

He looked at her for a long moment, and decided to play the game. In his condition he wasn't going anywhere without a night's sleeping it off and a strong painkiller. He might as well make conversation. "Yes, there's a woman involved in this," he said, gesturing to the empty glasses lined up in front of him like soldiers, "Yes, she's pretty. And no, I don't think she would give two shits that I'm at a bar like this talking to you."

"So she doesn't love you back?" Delinia asked.

"It's more complicated than that," he sighed.

"So she doesn't," the redhead concluded.

"I had to leave her," he said, "I didn't really have a choice in the matter."

"Was she terribly upset?"

"I don't know," he replied, aware of how loose the booze had made his tongue, but not really caring, "She doesn't really... she doesn't show how she's feeling the way most women seem to. Most of you seem to be crying or laughing or talking about your feelings all the damned time. Addie... she isn't like that. But she did..." he started, his voice trailing off as he remembered leaving her there at the edge of the Mere, "She did cry." She'd cried with Bevil in the courtyard, in the damned Paladin's arms, but she had never cried before him. But there, as he left, he'd seen the tears wet her face, "I suppose she does love me, in her way."

"What was so important that you had to leave her?" Delinia asked, "Seems to me it's rare enough that the feeling's shared."

"I made a bargain," Bishop started.

"But what does it matter?" Delinia asked, "The world's coming to an end anyway, some say within the month. Ain't nobody going to be coming after you for your bad credit after that happens. Hells, if I thought anyone was going to be calling me due by the end of the month I'd be employin' every trick in the book to get you into bed for a few silvers right about now."

_She's right,_ the voices in the back of his head said, _Nobody's coming out of this one alive. And I'll be thrice damned before I let the damn paladin be the one comforting her at the end of it._

"So that's not what you're doing now?" Bishop asked, raising in eyebrows.

"Oh don't flatter yourself," Delinia said, "If I could go back and change things I'd have become one of the chaste sisters of Ilmater and not had nothing twixt my legs save my knickers." She looked with disdain at the black rose, "But if you're going to be dyin' anyway, wouldn't you rather it be with her?"

"Sure beats dying alone," Bishop replied, "I can tell you that one from experience."

At some point shortly after this, his memory stopped. He didn't remember what he did between then and when he somehow managed to get upstairs to a vacant room and get his boots off and go to sleep. When he came to, there was one thing on his mind. Go back to Crossroad. Something within him felt at ease, knowing that the end was coming. There was a peace in accepting ones fate, and resolving to make the most of what time there was left.

He left his payment, along with a note for Kath, who had not come in yet, and set off back down the Coast the way he'd come. There was usually a defeat that came from admitting he'd made a mistake, but this time there was a bit of a spring in his step. _And who cares how long we'd have left? _he thought, _Haven't I known enough sadness?_

* * *

Kath got in to the bar around noon and found a pile of silver with a note in the corner where she usually stationed herself. She read it to Jasynda, one of the illiterate kitchen girls, curiously. "Thanks for the hospitality as always, Kath. Please toss a few of these to your bard Delinia, she has quite a talent."

"Who's Delinia, ma'am?" Jasynda asked.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Kath said, "We haven't had a bard since Addie worked here, and that's more than two years ago now. As far as I saw, he just came in here, drank four whiskeys, three ales, and a glass of mead, and wandered up to bed. I wonder who or what on earth that poor drunk fool was talking to?"


	96. Some Powerful Magic

The snow kept coming and didn't stop coming, drifting down in large feathery clumps from an angry gray sky. In the library, Sand, Aldanon, Kailana, and Ammon Jerro pored over the Tome of Iltkazar, tended to by Qara when she was in a good mood. Neeshka and Cormick holed up in their cottage by a turf fire, Khelgar and Helvynn in their flat above the bar. The atmosphere was one of tense boredom, knowing simultaneously that something very big and very bad was on its way and that there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.

More soldiers came to the Keep, many of them from the villages of the Mere that had been overtaken by the shadows. As the weeks wore on, Addie noticed that the ragged bands of soldiers were coming from further and further away, not only from the Halfling and Human villages in Neverwinter Territory, but from border villages, and towns further and further into Luskan territory. There was room in the barracks, and the Greycloaks, grateful for the extra forces, gladly made room. It was when the men trickling showed up wearing ragged vests bearing the Luskan insignia, marking them as former - or current - soldiers that Adahni began to get a little suspicious. Kana was following the policy of taking anyone that could hold a sword and handing them over the Bevil and Casavir to turn into soldiers. The small village militias were one thing - she would sign all the necessary forms, giving them a short briefing, and send them off to be trained.

Kana came to her one late afternoon several days after the troop had arrived. She knocked on the door frame of the war room where Adahni was seated in front of a stack of papers that needed her review.

"Knight Captain?" she said, "Remember that group of Luskans that set up in the empty barracks?"

"How could I forget them?" Adahni muttered, affixing her signature to a requisition form for more armor.

"It's been nearly a week and you haven't yet met with their commander," Kana said, "It's beginning to look as though you're purposely snubbing them."

"And what if I am," she countered.

"You'd be a fool, Knight Captain," Kana said candidly.

"Don't mince your words, Kana, tell me what you really think," Adahni replied sarcastically, "Have you figured out how to forge my signature yet? If you have, please try to put a dent in these while I go speak to him."

"Yes, ma'am," Kana said, "His name is Fray Trovo. Youngish fellow to be commanding such a large group. Then again, so are you."

She wandered down to the barracks, the newest one that had been built before the snow started to fall. It had been empty and hopeful, and now when she walked in, she was surprised that it was half full - of soldiers anyway. It was built in one L-shaped room with bunks on either side, and space for tables and chairs and foot lockers across from them. Clothes were strewn everywhere, a card game was going on in one corner, half of them were drunk and, notably, two of them - Adahni was not sure if it was two soldiers or a soldier and a prostitute or what - were going at it on one of the bunks.

She cleared her throat audibly as she walked in, and the female half of the rutting couple gave a little shriek and crossed her hands to cover her breasts and jumped off of her lover, quickly wrapping a sheet around herself. The cards were thrown to the ground with a sound like a dozen pigeons taking flight, and all of them stood at absurd attention.

"Well don't go being modest for my benefit," Adahni said, coldly, "Who's your commanding officer?"

A young man, barely twenty, got up from the card game and walked sheepishly up to her like a dog who'd left a mess somewhere in the room. "Sergeant Fray Trovo, from the fifth division, Luskan yeomanry." He was tall and darkhaired. Someone a long time ago had given him a scar on the corner of his mouth that gave him the look of perpetually sneering.

"And what have I done to deserve a twelve year old with a bow on his back to aid me in my time of need?" Adahni asked.

"With all due respect, Ma'am," Trovo replied, "Things in Luskan aren't exactly good for us soldiers right now, and we thought you could use the extra help."

"You thought you could use a steady paycheck," Adahni said, "A government thrown into chaos doesn't pay its sword-arms and you thought that turning mercenary for Neverwinter was a good way to make a little extra coin."

"What government, Ma'am?" Trovo asked boldly, "Since Sydney Natale went missing, the Hosttower's really lost its grip on things. There's nobody in charge, not a one! It's all very well for the tradesmen - the brewers and bakers trade goes on no matter what the government does, but once all the elite troops have been hired by this noble or that to do their private security, there's precious little that we can do to keep ourselves from starvation's door."

"And so you come to me, a minor noble of a minor city state?" Adahni said, raising one eyebrow, "You submit to the command of a foreigner, on her own turf?"

"Soldiers with no orders... aye it's a bad thing. We've splintered, some of us coming here, some of us to Neverwinter. None of us wanted to just... stay there, y'know? And, like I said, you could use the help."

"Discipline seems a bit lax here," Adahni commented, nodding at the half naked couple in the corner.

"Seeing as we're all set to be dead and in our graves before the spring," Trovo said, "Anyway, with your reputation, I didn't think it was going to be a problem, bringing some girls with us."

"You brought prostitutes to my Keep?" Adahni asked. She thought for a moment. It would probably solve some of the problems they'd had - mostly the young men getting into fights. The men outnumbered the women two to one at the Keep, and the soldier girls tended to be either more interested in each other, or the chaste paladin type like Katriona and Kana, and had the upper body strength to make their disinterest in their male counterparts known. If there was one thing that Adahni had learned during those dark years at the Cuckoo's Nest, it was that men deprived of the company of women tended to be tense and on edge and quick to anger.

"My lady..." Trovo started, "You mean there were none?"

"Are they free agents or are they slaves?" asked Adahni.

"They're in the employ of a madam," Trovo replied, "I don't inquire as to her business models."

"I'll speak with her later," Adahni said, "Tell me about your troops."

"We are forty men and four women. I've been their commander for little over a month - our captain jumped ship to work for a noble family in some business venture up north. Then our lieutenant was killed in a barfight, and so... it fell to me," Trovo said.

"What kind of support will you need?" Adahni asked.

"We brought supplies for the winter for ourselves," Trovo said, "These barracks are serviceable. We can cut and dry our own wood. Access to your... erm... drinking establishment would of course be appreciated."

"Drunk Luskans, just what I wanted," Adahni grumbled, "Very well. You've observed correctly that I could use all the help I could get. You will receive the salary of a Greycloak, but you will continue to wear the insignia of Luskan. As far as I'm concerned, you are all liabilities, and I don't want to have to explain myself to Nasher. The troops will remain under your command, and you will be under Kana's command, and she under mine. I don't give two shits about drinking and fucking, they're two of the very few pleasures left to us before the King of Shadows is upon us, but for the love of all the gods, save your pennies and get a room at the inn to do it. And be ready for a fight, for a fight is indeed coming to us."

"Thank you, my lady," Trovo said.

"You're one of my Sergeants now," Adahni said, "Please try not to embarrass yourself."

"Yes, Ma'am," Trovo said, snapping a salute. Adahni waved him off irritably and went back out into the cold.

Her days had fallen dreary. She missed the camaraderie she'd had with her companions back before she'd become the lady of the manor. Back when they lived at the Sunken Flagon and drank together every night. Now all the most interesting ones were married and more interested in holing up with each other than keeping her company - or gone. If she wanted to share a pint with someone who could make her laugh she would have to seek out a Greycloak at the bar. Prying Sand away from the Tome and raising Elanee from the hibernation state she liked to enter in the winter were next to impossible, and her relations with Casavir had grown as frosty as the air. She wandered the grounds aimlessly for half an hour, until she resolved that it was not, indeed, too early for a drink, and that if the second best option was going and completing paperwork, she might as well be shitfaced while she did it.

She was rounding the wall on her way to the Phoenix Tail when a familiar - all too familiar voice - called her name. She turned, and felt the blood drain from her face as she saw a ghost from her past that she had thought to never look on again.

"So it is you," Kath said. She was a little older, a little fatter and absolutely dripping with furs, her red hair like a flame against the white snow, "I had heard rumors, but I never believed them until I decided to come here and see for myself."

The madam approached her slowly and tentatively reached out a hand to tip Adahni's face up and examine it. "You don't look like a ghost anymore," she said, "Little meat on your bones. And a Knight Captain of Neverwinter! I am impressed, I am."

"What are you doing here, Kath?" Adahni asked, "And how much is it you're wanting to keep your mouth shut about exactly how we know each other?"

"Tsk tsk," clucked the older woman, "Straight to business, are you. It's not your money or your reputation I'm after, foolish girl, it's the privilege of my girls plying their trade with your soldiers. You were always square with me, except for that nasty bloodstain your husband left on my goosefeather bed, but I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say that you came out on the worse end of that one. Business is bad in Luskan right now. I've left the bar in the charge of an associate to mop up wahtever coppers get spilled on the floor there, and I'm here to manage a few of my ladies out here in the and because curiosity almost always gets the better of me."

"Well I hope your curiosity has been satisfied," Adahni said, and then paused, "Would you like to get a drink, Kath?"

Kath's red-painted mouth turned up in a smile, and she nodded. The two women walked side by side into the inn and bellied up to the bar. Over ale, they caught up on the past several years, without enough detail to be indiscreet, but enough for each to know what the other was talking about. Apparently, in the months since Adahni had slain the two half-orc assassins that had been in the business of debt collection and trafficking women, Kath had taken a much more heavyhanded role in the business of whoring. Whereas before she'd insisted that the whores were independent businesswomen who could come or go as they chose, Kath had realized that the quality of the services she received reflected positively or not so positively on the Cuckoo's Nest. And so, she made a few changes, and it seemed to be good for business and good for her employees.

"And what about you?" Kath said, her green eyes glinting, "Where did you disappear to and why?"

"I'd had enough of Dayven," she said, "Beating on me. The border was open and I wanted to go home."

"You could have left a note," Kath said, "When a whore and a john go to a room above my bar, and the next day they're both gone with a pool of blood on the floor, it's usually not very good news for the whore."

Adahni was silent for a minute, wondering how to spin this one, "I learned the hard way the Torio Claven had a habit of putting hits out on everyone her husband slept with."

"Aye, we figured that one out only too late," Kath, "If he hadn't disappeared I'd have banned him from the place. But what I'm curious about is how you survived when Kyla, Paleen, and Enrya all perished."

"She sent the wrong assassin after me," Adahni replied.

"She sent your own husband to murder you in your sleep!" Kath gasped in astonishment, "The nerve on that woman! I suppose she met a fitting end, then."

"I would tend to agree," Adahni replied.

She signalled to Sal, who drew them two more pints. Each took a long drink, trying to think of what to say next.

"Speaking of Kyla," Kath said, "I saw her boy, around a month or month and a half ago. He came into the Cuckoo's Nest looking for passage to Icewind Dale."

"Bishop?" Adahni asked, her stomach leaping and lurching at the mention of him.

"Aye, so you know him. Small world, this. Very strange, though, I told him that none of the ships were sailing until the King of Shadows mess was dealt with. He left the next morning anyway, I think to come back to Neverwinter. The very strange thing about that, though, was he left me a tip for a bard that I don't have."

"What?" Adahni said, "If he were heading back here he'd be here already. And what's this talk of a bard?"

"So you think he'd be heading here?" Kath said, raising her eyebrows.

"We traveled together for some time," Adahni said, "He left us, almost two months ago. He didn't say where he was going. Neverwinter is evacuating, if he were coming back to the territories, yes he'd almost certainly be coming here."

"The road from Luskan is a treacherous one," Kath said, "But I can't shake the feeling that something odd happened in my bar that night. He left me a good amount of silver to hand off to a bard named Delinia. We don't have a bard, and I've never met anybody by that name."

Adahni furrowed her brow, searching her memory for someone of that name. She came up blank, but thought about all the times that shadows had mimicked others. She thought about the Shadow Reavers, come back from the dead, and about how Black Garius must have had minions that did not all die...

"And he hasn't come back," Adahni said, sighing, "Interesting." She reached over the bar - a privilege she had as Knight Captain - and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers. She poured out two and offered one to Kath. Kath demurred, and Adahni drank them both, her mind both swimming and racing at the same time.

"You care for him," Kath observed.

"We have a history," Adahni said.

"You and Kyla were like peas in a pod," she said, "It's only natural you'd feel loyalty to him after the way she died, and he being so young."

"Aye," Adahni said, feeling guilty and miserable for all sorts of things she'd done.

In the corner she heard a fiddle being tuned and saw that a group of halfling musicians had gathered around Grobnar, who was attaching a new set of bagpipes, these the small and highpitched ones favored by the halflings, to a bellows. There were several of them - the fiddler and a fat one with a squeezebox, a bodhran, a banjo, and a tiny little tin whistle. She hadn't heard them play all together.

"I've always been so fascinated with the wee ones," Kath said, looking at the halfling band, "Mackrem Cullygan being the only one I know personally. Such a merry folk."

"Aye, Cullygan's a merry man all right - grin on his face while he's slicing your throat."

Kath laughed, a gurgling belly laugh, and poured herself a whiskey, "I always appreciated how a tune could turn the mood of a room around. Sorcerers may sling spells, but bards wield a powerful magic as well."

Tuned up, the halflings and the gnome started playing a jolly reel, a version of one Adahni remembered learning as a child. Though her heart was still sore, she felt her spirits lift a little, fallen under the spell of another bard. She smiled in spite of herself and tapped her toe against the barstool.

The music began to be accompanied by the rhythm of stomping feet as soldiers and peasants began to get up to dance. Three men from a mining village up in the hills started, holding their hands stiffly by their sides and clogging in a circle, whooping every time one of them stuck a particularly difficult step. How they didn't kick each other in the shins or worse Adahni didn't know, but she watched their deft footwork with fascination.

The reel drew to a close, but the wail of Grobnar's little pipes continued, and they segued into a slow waltz. The banjo player stepped forward, shaking his brown curls out of her eyes, and started to sing.

_Look at the coffin, with golden handles_  
_Isn't it grand, boys, to be bloody well dead_

The rest of them, without Grobnar and the whistle-player, joined in for the chorus.

_Let's not have a sniffle, let's have a bloody good cry _  
_And always remember the longer you live_  
_The sooner you bloody well die_

Adahni raised her glass to this, as did about half the room, including the mining lads who had sat down, the sweat streaming down their faces.

_Look at the flowers, all bloody withered_  
_Isn't it grand, boys, to be bloody-well dead?_

_Let's not have a sniffle, let's have a bloody-good cry_  
_And always remember: The longer you live_  
_The sooner you'll bloody well die_

_Look at the mourners, bloody-great hypocrites_  
_Isn't it grand, boys, to be bloody-well dead?_

_Let's not have a sniffle, let's have a bloody-good cry_  
_And always remember: The longer you live_  
_The sooner you'll bloody well die_

_Look at the preacher, bloody sanctimonious_  
_Isn't it grand, boys, to be bloody well dead?_

Adahni giggled a little, the term 'sanctimonious' always reminding her of the paladin.

_Let's not have a sniffle, let's have a bloody-good cry_  
_And always remember: The longer you live_  
_The sooner you'll bloody well die_

_Look at the widow, bloody great female_  
_Isn't it grand, boys, to be bloody well dead?_

_Let's not have a sniffle, let's have a bloody-good cry_  
_And always remember: The longer you live_  
_The sooner you'll bloody well die_

By the end of the song, the whole bar had joined in, some drunk, some sober, but all singing and merry at the inevitability of death.


	97. The Beginning of the End

It was the darkest day of the year - the veil of Midwinter - when Nevalle came rapping on her door and entered before Adahni could jump up and let him in. His hair was disheveled, a fact which rather disturbed the Knight-Captain, and he looked as though he had been riding all night. He stared at her for a moment silently, and she offered him a seat by the fire, for there was frost caught in his eyebrows and whiskers. He sat down and took three, deep breaths before looking up at her, his blue eyes troubled. She knew that he had been away in Neverwinter, consulting with Lord Nasher, and her stomach sank to think what ill news he had ridden so quickly to bring her. The roads had been all but blocked for weeks; the snow had been drifting down steadily, foot after foot after foot, much more than Adahni had ever seen in her life. The mail carriers were cut off, and news had to be delivered in person, for the riders who would normally deliver the mail were loath to ride through the deep snow and the short days of the dead of winter. Whatever message Nevalle had come to her with must have been urgent indeed.

"Addie," he said, his voice tight and high like a schoolboy whose voice was beginning to break. He had never called her Addie before. It was always Knight-Captain, or my lady, or Lady Adahni if he were being very informal, "Addie, it's upon us."

A chill went up her spine. So soon? she thought.

"Waterdeep and the Lord's Alliance have reinforcements on the way," he said, "But if we cannot hold the keep until they arrive, then all is lost."

"I have been doing all I can to make sure the keep will not fall. What must I do now?" she asked. She had been preparing for this day for months, learning all she could about the art of large scale battle and how to defend a keep. She and the architect Master Veedle had walked the grounded with various engineers, designing all sorts of deadly tricks and traps that would hopefully stem the tide of the undead swelling out of the Mere, but now that she knew that all of it would come to a head, she felt woefully unprepared.

"We must hold this keep at all costs," Nevalle repeated, wiping the melting ice from his eyes.

A maidservant with impeccable timing had helpfully chosen that moment to show up with a jug of mulled wine and two mugs. Adahni dutifully rose and poured them each a drink, and handed one to the knight. He sipped it gingerly, and the color returned to his cheeks.

"Now, Nevalle," she said, "We both know that's not what you road through hells and high water to come here and tell me."

The knight looked at her absently, as though he had utterly forgotten his reasons for riding like a madman to Crossroad Keep and then collapsing before the fire in its lady's office. "Lord Nasher's troops are advancing on Highcliff as we speak," Nevalle said, finally remembering, "I must ride out to them soon. We will buy you some time while you decipher the Tome of Iltkazar."

"What?" she asked. Admittedly, it was not unlike Lord Nasher to formulate strategy that critically involved her without telling her beforehand, but this all seemed a little extreme, "Why was I not told of this plan?"

A pained expression flashed across Nevalle's face, but he took on a look of one who has just had a suspicion confirmed. "Two messengers were sent in the last week," Nevalle said, "Evidently, both were slain on the roads. You have no idea how bad it is out there..."

"With the snow?" Adahni asked, "I know it's more than we are used to seeing here, but the people of West Haven and the villages along the Spine of the World deal with this type of weather every winter. Surely two messengers perishing is a bit excessive!"

"With the snow and the darkness come the shadows," Nevalle said. He leaned forward in his chair and rubbed both eyes with the heels of his hands, "With the sun scarcely up for five or six hours, the world is in a gray twilight - surely you've seen that. But along the road with no torches to light the path, the shadows creep up behind you and try to pull you from your horse."

Adahni was struck, thinking of something odd that Bishop had mentioned off hand one morning. _The shadows are dogging at me, Addie, I dare not sleep._ She had brushed it off - the ranger was fond of saying cynical and cryptic things, after all. "And they perished?"

"Their horses returned to Neverwinter, saddles empty," Nevalle said, "Nasher bid me deliver the message myself."

"Two men had already died on the road, and Nasher sent you, all by yourself?"

"If there is one thing I have learned about Nasher, it's that his judgment, however ridiculous it seems, is usually for the best," Nevalle said, "As you can see, I am sitting here, limbs intact, before you."

"But you had to fight for your life," Adahni said.

Nevalle looked down. The dancing firelight highlighted the hollowness of his cheeks and the blond five-o'clock shadow thereon. "Aye," he said, "It was not a pleasant experience."

"And now you must ride out again," Adahni said.

"Yes," Nevalle said, staring into the fire and shuddering, "I do not relish what must be done. That doesn't change its exigency though."

Adahni nodded slowly, "Very well. Aldanon feels that they are close to a breakthrough. I hope that it come sooner rather than later, that perhaps we might all be spared this fight."

"All?" Nevalle said, "You won't be, whatever the outcome."

"I came to terms with that a long time ago," Adahni said.

"If they do not decipher the tome, the shadow army will come here next," Nevalle said.

"It sounds like Nasher does not expect to win this battle at Highcliff," Adahni observed.

"If by 'win' you mean send the King of Shadows to the hells, never to be heard from again, then no, he does not expect to win. But we will take out as many of them as we can before they arrive at Crossroad Keep. You have many men here who follow you, men from the villages. Even, so I heard, Luskans eager to fight for you. Winning here is buying enough time for you to find a way to strike the King of Shadows where he lives."

"You don't sound convinced," Adahni commented mildly.

Nevalle bowed his head, "The decision was against the recommendation of myself and Sir Darmon. Nasher insisted that buying you time was of critical importance. The more we weaken the army at Highcliff, the less you must worry about when it roars like a wave over this land."

Adahni nodded, "I will make preparations. " The knight got up to leave. Something made her stand and call his name, "Nevalle..."

"Yes?"

"We have not always seen eye to eye, I know," she said, "Believe me I am as baffled by my ascension as you are. Just, I want you to know that I've always thought highly of you."

"Now Addie!" he exclaimed, his gaunt and grave face breaking out in a smirk,"You sound like you don't expect to see me again. This time next month you and I will be tossing back a pint at the Sunken Flagon and laughing at how overblown this King of Shadows silliness was!"

She smiled and snapped a salute. "I'll see you on the other side."

Nevalle went off to snatch a few hours of sleep before riding for Highcliff, and Adahni contemplated briefly her next move. She went to her bedroom and donned her armor, fastening the blue cloak which marked her as one of the Nine about her neck. She then went off to make the rounds of the troops, telling them all what was to occur and what they could expect. Some had family in Nasher's army, and their faces went gray at the idea that those soldiers were being sent in to save the Keep. Adahni kept emphasizing that they ought to rely on Nasher's judgment, spinning her words deftly to inspire bravery in the men she was charged with commanding. This Midwinter, there would be no bonfire. There would be no feasting. Only battle, the sort of battle that the Midwinter Brawl had been training them up for since they were children.

Finally, she called together all of her companions, and their spouses, the ones that had them, to sit around the great round table in the war room. The day was dark outside the windows, and the room was lit only by flickering torchlight and a great blaze in the large fireplace set into the outside wall. Putting on her best bard voice, she said, softly, "You all know by now that the time is close at hand when we will be asked to lay our lives on the line to defend this keep."

"Yes, yes, we heard," Neeshka said. Her tail was twitching like it did only when she was very, very anxious, and she gripped Cormick's wrist with one white-knuckled hand, "What do you need us to do?"

"I just..." Adahni said. She had had the speech planned out with all sorts of eloquent turns of phrases, but seeing the look in the tiefling girl's eyes, it all flew out of her head like pigeons scattering before a rambunctious toddler, "Oh to hells with it. You've all been with me for a long damn time, over a year most of you, and mostly of your own accords and asking nothing in return. You stood by me through that bullshit trial and fought by my side, and I just want you to know that you have no obligation to follow me into this battle," she said.

A great _crack_ echoed across the room as Khelgar brought down one iron-gauntleted hand on the table, "If you think for a moment, lass, that any of us will be leaving you, you're blinder than a bat and twice as stupid." Helvynn echoed his sentiment, stomping on the ground.

"Here here!" echoed Neeshka, and the rest joined in with shouts of encouragement and loyalty- even Qara, who rarely showed enthusiasm for anything - all but for the paladin. He sat silently, almost as though he were in a reverie, staring at the fire at the end of the room.

"I must ask you to go make preparations for the coming battle," Adahni said, "Sand and Qara return to the Tome - we need as many skilled eyes on it as possible. I don't know how long Nasher's forces will last at Highcliff, but we have little choice but to wait and get ready as best we can."

Her companions each voiced their assent, and slowly got up and shuffled off to do her bidding.

"And you?" Adahni asked, looking pointedly at the paladin, who remained in his seat, still staring at the fireplace.

"Of course," he replied gruffly, "A word, my lady, when you have a moment?"

"I have a moment now," she said, "Come walk with me. From the highest tower, there is a view of Highcliff, I have a mind to keep my eye on it."

"Very well," he said, somewhat reluctantly.

"Is there something troubling you?" she asked, "All right, don't answer that question. There seems to be always something troubling you. What is it this time?" The two of them exited the war room and headed for the end of the keep, where a spiral staircase would allow them to access the castle walls, and from there the tower.

"I regret many of the things I have said you," Casavir said, "And I hope that you will accept my apology for my hasty words sometime before we must face this foe."

"Cas," she said, "If I were to hold a grudge for every unkind thing a person said to me, I would be a hateful person indeed."

"But you must understand," he said, "For me... such behavior is alien. Something has changed in me over the past year. I would never have allowed emotion to take hold of me as I have in your presence, be it anger, or..."

"Or what?"

"Or something else," he concluded, cryptically, "You showed me a different path, one where you are allowed to fulfill your baser desires... At first, when you counseled me concerning Vania, I thought it a great revelation, learning that I need not be ashamed of the love and desire I felt, though the good Brothers of Tyr had always taught me to suppress them. I thought that what you said made absolute sense - that trying to force an imperfect being into a perfect mold was an exercise in futility."

"But now you're not so sure?"

"Allowing myself to experience love with Vania opened a floodgate, Addie," he said, "Before, when she was merely an object of desire, a distant thought... I could handle it. Love was something I could look at, but never participate in. But when you counseled me to change that, I thought at first that my previous self-denial had just been foolishness and naivete. You never warned me that there is also hate, and anger, and greed. Jealousy. Things that I had had under control before I met you. My training as a templar, a paladin, a monk in knight's clothing had taught me that such things were unimportant, and I learned to not feel them. And now that Vania is gone... I have none of the love that made it worth experiencing the pain."

"You were very young," Adahni said, "You spent ten years cloistered. It never occurred to me that you had never learned to experience these emotions like an adult." Casavir shot her a look, and she realized that her words had come out much snarkier than she had meant them, "I am sorry, Cas, I didn't mean it like that. I only meant that it's not as bad as all that. Yes, of course, we all experience these things. I thought..." she let her voice trail off, "I am sorry that you had to learn it this late in life."

They emerged into the wan light of a winter afternoon. It had stopped snowing, but the cold was bitter, and Adahni wrapped her cloak around herself and started the long walk across the battlement to the watchtower in the corner. After a few seconds, she realized that the paladin had not accompanied her. He was standing, still as a statue, just outside the door they had just come though, gazing out over the keep. She walked back to him. She stripped off one chainmail glove and tucked it into a pocket on her breeches that had been sewn for just that purpose. Her hand immediately protested that it was much too cold to be left outside and unprotected like this, but she reached out anyway and grasped the paladin's calloused hand.

"It's not as bad as all that," she said, "Would you rather have gone to your grave not knowing?"

"No, no, I suppose not," he said gruffly, and gave her hand a squeeze, "I must apologize for my behavior towards you these last few weeks. I thought it would be easier if I kept my distance from you, but I find that it only makes it worse."

"Come with me to the top of the tower," Adahni said. In the half-light, the snow almost glowing blue, she felt a final barrier fall, "And I'll tell you a tale that I hope will explain everything to you. Since the darkness is upon us, I don't suppose I have many confidences left to keep."

"Indeed..." Casavir replied. Hand in hand, the strode across the wall and up the long and winding staircase to the top of the highest tower. There, Adahni lit a fire in the brazier placed there for just that purpose, and they sat down.

"I was fifteen when I left home," she said, "With my sweetheart. He was an orphan, several years older than myself, and wanted nothing more than to join the Circle of Blades."

Casavir nodded, "Aye, I know he was an assassin. I was there when the ranger cut him down at the tourney grounds in Neverwinter."

Adahni said, "Yes, well, I'm telling you the rest of the story, the part the concerns Bishop, the part which will answer all the obnoxious questions you've been posing me over the last year, so I'd appreciate if you'd listen without further comment.

"As you know, the Circle of Blades is known for the cruel ways in which it keeps its recruits in line. Those who show hesitation in loyalty or in courage are subjected to a substance known as Cyric's Madness. It kills fear in its steps, increases agility - and most importantly it's highly addictive. Dayven was not exactly the assassin he thought he'd be, and soon he had given himself over to the drug entirely."

"And you?"

"I worked as a bard in a tavern on the Luskan Docks, a filthy little hole called the Cuckoo's Nest. I shared a room with a young woman, a prostitute from Neverwinter who had run away from her parents' house with her younger brother. Mind you, I was fifteen, and she into her twenties. She took me under her wing so to speak. Her name was Kyla Bishop."

The paladin nodded, as though she had confirmed something that he had suspected all along.

"I got pregnant a little before my eighteenth birthday," she said, "Dayven and I were wed. What I didn't know was that he was thousands in debt to a pair of half-orc brothers who controlled the trade in Cyric's Madness. As his wife, I became fair game as a means of extracting the debt from him."

"And the child?" Casavir asked.

"They beat me bloody and I miscarried," Adahni said, "Probably for the best, after all. After that, Dayven all but sold me into the service of the half-orcs. Had me back at the bar spreading my legs for coin so neither of us would wind up on the wrong end of a gangster's sword."

A look of horror had taken up residence on Casavir's face. Adahni took a moment to roll herself a smoke and light it. She puffed away for a moment, unable to look the paladin in the eye.

"Kyla was murdered by one of her johns one night," Adahni said, staring into the fire. This, of course, was a lie, but it was easier to explain it this way and, after all, was Dayven's participation in the killing really relevant to the story? "I had made a promise to her once, that if anything would happen to her, that I'd make sure her younger brother was all right. He wasn't always he is - was - when you knew him," She took a deep drag and blew the gray smoke up into the sky, "He was fourteen." She sighed, "I thought an apprenticeship would be the best thing. I, of course, was barely twenty myself. And, as you can see, I failed."

"I had no idea, my lady," the paladin breathed, "No wonder you felt a sense of obligation to him."

"He saved my life," Adahni said, "I told you once, long ago, about the first man I killed. He was the man who had killed Kyla. We fought. He wounded me gravely. It was Bishop who found me half dead, and who got me to escape Luskan and return to Westharbor, though I didn't know it was him at the time. This was around two years ago now. When he showed up at the Sunken Flagon I didn't even recognize him."

"But it became clear to you who he was later on?"

She nodded, "At first I thought it would be better to avoid him, but he made it very difficult to do. We didn't even acknowledge each other for a month or more... it was a very dark time for both of us when we had first met and I guess we thought that if we ignored it, perhaps it would stop haunting us. It's almost a relief that he's gone now," she said, admitting it out loud for the first time.

Casavir chuckled, "I must admit, my lady, I had often wondered on your past. It is good to finally know the truth."

"What, that you've sworn fealty to a former strumpet from the Luskan Docks?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Fitting for the bastard son of a batty enchantress," he said, "You and I and the skeletons in our respective closets make quite a band indeed."

"I suppose so," Adahni replied. The sun had gone down sometime during her tale. She rose and looked over the edge of the tower to the northwest. Straining her eyes, she picked out the tiny points of light that marked the torches borne by Nasher's army, many miles away. Casavir rose and stood beside her.

"Thank you," he said, "Your tale has put me at peace, in an odd way."

"What do you mean?"

"I always trusted you," he said, "Make no mistake of that. You have proven yourself more than worthy of my fealty, former strumpet or no, you have the heart of a warrior. I thank you for telling me this tale. It can't have been easy for you. And I suppose I am sorry for what happened to Bishop, whatever it was."

It occurred to Adahni that the paladin had never actually brought himself to speak Bishop's name before. "Well, in any case, he's gone now," she said, "These two months. I don't suppose we'll be seeing him again."

"I hope you will not be too offended by my failure to mourn overlong," Casavir said.

"No, no," she said, chuckling ruefully, "If there's one thing I've learned it's that you can't expect everyone to get along famously. I imagine he's gotten himself killed somewhere out there." Giving voice to the thought she had held for the past two months brought her more peace than pain, surprisingly enough.

The paladin slung one arm around her shoulders, "If the loss of love didn't pain us, then how would we know we had it in the first place?" he said.

"You're wiser than you give yourself credit for," Adahni said.

He leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head, his mouth very warm in contrast to the chill in the air, "Looking back, there are a few things I would have changed," he said, "But all in all, standing here with you at the beginning of the end, I think it's turned out just fine."

Adahni took at deep breath of the frigid winter's air, and let it out, a cloud against the bluish moonlight, "And if we are about to die?"

"Let it come," he said, "I am just about ready."


	98. The Battle of Highcliff

It was an eerie sight indeed. From the distance atop the tower, Adahni and Casavir could make out the torchlights of the army. So too, could they make out an eerie green glow sweeping over the land. She held her breath, too far away and impotent to do anything, to shout a warning. She simply sat, a queen atop her castle, watching the torchlight clash with the green mist. The paladin tensed beside her, and she saw him bend his head and whisper prayers. Never a praying woman, she bowed her head and did the same.

_Oh Lord Tyr, Lady Tymora, whoever the hells is out there to listen to me anymore, please spare some attention for the men and women down there, _she whispered. She stood there, she knew not how long, whispering the same though in different words to all of the gods whose names she remembered, and tried to address a few whose names she didn't. She was roused from her reverie by the paladin shaking her.

"Look," he pointed. The tiny pinpoints of light had shifted, and were on the move, "They are falling back. Towards here. See, you can see the line of lights on the main road."

"Great Tyr," she murmured, "I'm heading for the courtyard, whatever news there is, it can't be good. How long have they been on the move?"

"An hour at most," he replied, "It will be sunrise before they arrive here. Perhaps they've sent a scout ahead, though."

She nodded, "I'll wait down there. Tell the others what has happened as they rise come the dawn, have them make preparations. It is indeed upon us."

"Yes, my lady," Casavir said.

Adahni scrambled down the stairs, across the hall, and back into the main hall, nearly falling on ice several times. She roused Kana, who was asleep in one of the bunkrooms off of the library, and told her what she had seen.

"You've keener eyes that I, Captain," the lieutenant said, stretching, "What is it you wish of me?"

"Find all the healers you can," Adahni said, "Clerics, paladins, druids, even rangers will do. Nasher's army is headed this way, we need to be prepared to treat the wounded as they come through the gate."

Without a word, Kana scrambled out of her bunk and threw on a robe over the smallclothes that she slept in. "As you command, Captain."

At dawn, Adahni and a small company of Greycloaks waited, pacing frantically, in front of the gate to the courtyard. The first soldiers began to trickle in, those who were not gravely wounded and who could move the swiftest. Then came the slower-moving ones, those injured strapped to horses. They appeared, bit by bit, through the day. By noon, there was still no sign of Nasher or Nevalle, and Adahni began to fear the worst. She sent her Greycloaks away to tend to the wounded, and sat herself in a snowdrift, wondering what in the hells she would do if the Lord of Neverwinter was no more, and she had nobody to tell her what to do. _Despite all Nevalle has said, _she thought, _has his judgment really been for the best? Keeping me in the dark? Using me like a pawn while he played politics with Luskan? Is he really the leader we need come the King of Shadows' advance?_ She allowed herself a little hubris with these thoughts, thinking on what would happen if the outcome of the battle actually did rest on her own shoulders, without having to take orders from the Lord. _Perhaps this has happened for a reason, _she thought, and began to plan how she would handle things if it indeed turned out that the lord of Neverwinter and his second in command had perished.

It was near sundown when a horse, laden with not one, but two riders galloped to the gate. The rider in back scrambled down from the saddle and pushed his cowl from his head. Adahni felt relief mixed with a bit of disappointment when she saw Nevalle's face, just as haggard as he had been the morning before, but alive.

"The battle at Highcliff did not go in our favor," he said, his voice ragged, "The alliance troops have not yet arrived, though they are still on their way. Here, help me." Nevalle went to his companion, who was slumped over the horse's neck, bandaged about the head with a cowl over his face. Adahni went to him and helped him bear the weight of the rider from the saddle. She threw one of his limp arms over her shoulders, and Nevalle grasped him by the other side. As the hood slid back, Adahni found herself looking on the gray face of an unconscious Lord Nasher. She was speechless for a moment, but found her voice.

"Greycloak!" she called to one of the sentries, "Run up the hill and tell Kana to have a healer standing by in the ante-room by the main hall. Now!"

The young woman did as told, scrambling up the snowy hill, falling on her face twice, but rising again to deliver the message.

"We must take him inside the keep," Nevalle said, "He received a blow to the head and has been in and out of consciousness ever since. We cannot risk moving him until he has recovered."

In tandem, the two knights of Neverwinter struggled through the courtyard and up to the Keep. In all the hubbub of wounded soldiers, nobody noticed who it was that the Knight Captain and Sir Nevalle carried, until they entered the room where Kana and a young priest of Lathander, a recruit from one of the Mere villages, were waiting.

"How long has he been like this?" the priest asked. They laid Lord Nasher on the bed, his face alarmingly colorless. His head lolled to one side, but he was breathing. Nevalle, who in a crisis had evidently no concern for his master's modesty, began to strip off the plate armor and set it aside. Adahni and Kana looked away, Kana because she didn't want to see the old man in such a state of undress, Adahni because she was not interested in laying eyes on whatever grisly wounds he had sustained.

"For Tyr's sake," Kana muttered.

The priest examined the Lord, and whispered an incantation. His hands glowed with holy light, and he laid them gently on Nasher's head. Adahni watched intently, but could see no tangible change in his condition. Finally, the priest fell silent, and stepped back from the bed, drawing the covers up tight under the lord's chin.

"He'll recover," the priest said, "I've done all I can, the best we can do for him is let him rest."

All three of them stood there, looking expectantly at the cleric.

"There are other wounded I should attend to," he said boldly.

"We should be on about our business anyway," Nevalle said, "The only thing we can do at this point is make sure that the keep is secure."

"Very well," Adahni said, "I will attend to it. You need some sleep."

The knight hesitated a moment, but then turned and left, as did Kana and the priest, leaving Adahni alone with the comatose lord. She sat down in a chair and watched him for a long moment. The orders he had given her had rubbed her the wrong way for some reason. She found herself thinking some very dark thoughts as she stood there, watching Nasher's chest rise and fall in raged breaths. _How easy would it be to put a pillow over his face and take command of his forces myself, _she thought, _Would any be truly surprised if he died in his bed? A man of his age, with wounds so grave? _She stood there paralyzed, unable to stop the thoughts - or perhaps she just didn't want to. It was all she could do to keep her hands by her sides. Her vision began to blur around the edges. The shadows began to crawl from under the bed, the dark corners of the room.

_You've been up all night, Addie, _she cautioned herself, _It's nothing. _Then, the shadows began to speak to her.

_It would be so easy, Addie, do it! The old fool has done nothing for you but brought you sorrow! _the shadows spoke. She watched as the shadows crept along the baseboards, closer and closer to her feet. She was at once at the mercy of the icy fear that clutched at her throat, and intrigued by them. She tried to look directly at the shadows, but never succeeded. They always managed to stay just out of her reach, hiding in her peripheral vision. She knew not how long she had played at the game when she was startled by the unconscious Lord Nasher sitting straight up in bed. She leapt to her feet, and the shadows scattered and all thoughts of regicide fled her mind.

"My lord!" she exclaimed, "I was just watching over-"

"It is as if all the dead of the Mere walk!" he shouted, his blue eyes wide open. Adahni waved her hand in front of his face, but he did not react, and she realized that he was still in whatever dream state he'd been in before his eyes open to the anteroom were seeing something entirely different. "There are miles of them!"

"Tell me what you see, my lord," she said, realizing that he was recounting the battle he had just fought in. He flailed this way and that.

"We shall make a road of their bodies!" he bellowed, his sightless eyes darting this way and that.

He was silent a long moment, his breath becoming ragged, as though he were struggling up a long and steep hill. "The enemy comes!" he shouted after a moment, "They are men who have died once - and they will die again! We are more than their match. They know nothing of courage, of honor - they have no loved ones that they fight for."

He turned this way and that. "And that is why they will fall before our swords, our spears,for the Gods are with us - brothers, sisters, all, standing side by side against death!"

Adahni had to admit, it was a stirring speech indeed if that is what he had actually said on the eve of battle.

"Know that Neverwinter stands behind you. Let us remind them of death - and send them back to the Hells!"

He gave a great bellowing war cry, and slumped back onto his pillow. His breathing slowly became regular, and Adahni could have sworn she saw some of the color return to his face. Finding herself with her wits about her, she turned and left the room. Locating Kana, she ordered the lieutenant to have her sergeants prepare reports on all of the defenses. One of the privileges of nobility, Adahni noted, was the ability to have others do your work for you when you were in dire need of a nap. The thoughts she had had in Nasher's chamber, staring at the sleeping lord, had shaken her to say the very least. She could not deny that she had a mean streak, finely honed during her time in Luskan, or that she often did things that she knew were not exactly socially acceptable. But, she thought, she had always managed to limit the worst of her cruelty to those who deserved it. The Clavens, for example, or Moire the deposed queen of the Neverwinter Docks. That she had caught herself wanting to suffocate a wounded old man in his sleep was deeply disturbing even to her.

She went to her chamber, to find none other than Daeghun, sitting in one of her chairs in front of the fire, smoking his pipe.

"I see you've returned in good time, father," she said, stripping off her armor piece by piece, as though he weren't there at all, and tugging her nightgown over her head.

"These men call you Knight-Captain," he said, "And these walls are yours. You have come far."

"A lovely observation. That still does not explain what you're doing in my chamber," she said, in no mood for the old man's damned cryptic words, "Lord Nasher is wounded, the army of Neverwinter in pieces in my courtyard - what is it you seek me out for?"

Daeghun looked up at her, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth, "Now, Addie. Just because a woman is a knight of Neverwinter doesn't mean she could not use her father's aid. It has been a rough day or two, for all of us here. I had hoped to convince you to get some rest."

"This keep is my responsibility," she said. The teenage girl inside her insisted on defying whatever it was Daeghun suggested, no matter if Adahni herself had had the idea first.

"And you are my responsibility," Daeghun countered, "Go to bed. I will keep the shadows at bay and see that none among your company disturb you before dawn."

"The shadows?"

"You know full well what I'm talking about," Daeghun said, "Now sleep, my girl. Tomorrow begins a test greater than most of us will ever have to face."

She nodded numbly, and allowed him to pull the covers up like he had when she was a little girl. Then he returned to the fire, where he kept watch, protecting her from whatever lurked in the darkness, just as he always had. Her sleep was long and dreamless, and when she woke the next morning, the pale light of dawn was already upon them. Daeghun, apparently, had lost some of the stamina that he had had as a younger elf, and had drifted off himself. She chuckled and wrapped his cloak around his shoulders before dressing and padding down the hall to check on Lord Nasher.

It was a welcome surprise that the lord was awake, and on his feet. He was conferring with Kana and Nevalle about something that,evidently, did not require Adahni's input, or so she thought. As she drew closer, though, she saw that it was in fact the case that Kana was scolding him.

"My Lord, you should rest, gather your strength," the Lieutenant admonished him as a mother would a naughty child.

"I must still remain strong..." Nasher insisted, "Any sign of weakness now to our own troops and the King of Shadows will have gained another edge on us. He marches on Crossroad Keep, and it will not be long until his forces are at our gates."

She entered the room silently. "Ah! Knight-Captain!" Nasher exclaimed, "You have served Neverwinter beyond the call of duty, risking your life not once, but several times, without hesitation. If there is anything that I think will be the light against this shadow that comes against us, it is you and the fortress I have granted you."

"I think you, my lord," Adahni said, wondering if Nasher was all right in the head after the blow he had taken, "But on to the matter as at hand. What were you discussing?"

"The Lord's Alliance and Waterdeep," Kana said, "I was asking if they had answered our call."

"Forces from Waterdeep and our other allies are on their way, but I do not know if they will arrive in time," Nevalle replied.

"We can't depend on reinforcements," Adahni said, "If they are willing to keep taking their sweet time in getting here, we can only imagine how incompetent they will be when the battle itself arrives."

"I agree. We must defend this keep as though we stand on our own," Nevalle concurred, "We don't know how long it will take them to come. The undead do not do so well in the cold."

"And yet they managed to cut through your army like a hot knife through butter, on the very eve of Midwinter," Adahni commented.

"You must hold this Keep against these shadows," Nasher said, before a battle could erupt between the two of the Nine standing before them, "We are all on edge, and the two of you bickering like children does not aid matters. You have served bravely, Nevalle. And you, Adahni, have raised this place with your own hands, now you must keep it together and lead your men in battle."

"My apologies, Sir Nevalle, my nerves are a bit on edge, as are everyones."

"No offense taken, Lady Adahni," Nevalle replied.

"I will see to it personally that the King of Shadows regrets coming here," Adahni said, "Kana, gather my companions, have them be ready to fight if need be, and tell them I will meet them in the war room. I have some plans in this head of mine for the defense of the keep. Today, we will taste blood."


	99. Mystery Solved

Kana had helpfully laid out the maps which Adahni kept in her office on the table in the war room. A few of them would do for the purpose of the meetings, and these she spread out on the table with a few of the tin soldiers. She placed them to mark where Greycloak outposts were on the road from Crossroad Keep. A series of three bridges gave access to the keep over the winding river. There were, of course, other ways to approach, but the main road was the quickest and allowed for the most men – or undead – to walk abreast. If they had to approach from elsewhere, through the mountains meaning,

Her companions trickled in, one after the other. Khelgar, Elanee and Neeshka first, their faces grim, followed by Qara, Sand, Grobnar, and Zhjaeve. Ammon Jerro brought up the rear, with Casavir at his heels. Kana arrived with Nevalle just as Adahni was about to call them to attention.

'The scouts have returned, Captain," Kana said, "The enemy has been sighted on the outskirts of the Keep... and the bridges on the south river have already been captured."

"For Tyr's sake, can nothing go according to plan?" Adahni sighed petulantly, "Well, I suppose this goes along with what I had been intending to cover. As we know, whoever holds the bridges holds this Keep – or at least the best way into it. If they try and march up the mountain pass, we can make it hard on them, but with the loss of those bridges, the advantage is theirs. I had hoped to be able to halt them before they made it this far, but we still have the opportunity to fix it now, before they get any farther."

"My lady is correct," Casavir rumbled, "We need to act!"

"The defense of the keep needs to be our first concern – we need time to set up the blockades within the courtyard and ready the walls. We cannot allow the enemy to cross the river," Ammon said. He was silent a moment, and then his tattoos glowed bright, as they often did when he thought of something, "Is there time to recapture the crossing?"

"If we act quickly, we may be able to destroy the bridges. Doing so would limit the enemy's movements, and work in our favor."

"I'm glad we are all in agreement," Adahni said.

"Since when do the undead care about crossing water?" Neeshka asked skeptically.

"It certainly would not stop the shadows and spirits," Kana said, "But vampires cannot cross water without aid, and the slower creatures, like skeletons or ghouls, would be swept along in the current."

"The land often has defenses against those that are no longer of it... even now, it is our ally," Elanee said. Adahni looked at her, pleased that the elf was getting back to her old druidic self.

"We are fortunate that the King of Shadows needs to keep its fighting force together."

"What about the shadows?" Grobnar said, "Those horrid voices lurking in the corners..."

"Pay them no mind," Kana said, "They can only hurt you if you listen to them. Just keep your mind on other things. This will be over sooner rather than later."

"Indeed," Adahni said, "Even the land we stand on is rapidly becoming infected. I've seen them too, Grobnar. Worry not, we'll drive them from her by dawn tomorrow. But enough talk here, I'm going to need a couple of you to accompany me and a band of Greycloaks. Khelgar, I'll need you to come, and Sand..."

"You're going to want me," a voice came from the doorway. Adahni looked up to see Casavir's mother, Kailana, standing there. Instead of her usual gossamer robes, the aging wizardess and trussed herself up in a mage's war-robes. Her face was free of the heavy paint that usually covered it, and her iron-gray hair was drawn back tightly. She looked like a witch in a children's book's illustrations, and altogether intimidating.

"Lady Andarion," Kana said, "I don't know if this..."

"Bullshit, Kana," Kailana barked, "I was one of the most powerful mages of the Hosttower when you were crawling about in diapers. I knew the men who would become Shadow Reavers personally."

Adahni's eyes grew wide. She was astonished first, that Kailana was outing herself as a Luskan – as a Hosttower mage no less! - in front of her son and the whole keep, and second, that she was doing anything but sashaying around delighting in the chaos her presence caused.

"Mother!" Casavir exclaimed, his eyebrows knit, "Oh gods damn it all, I suppose we'll have to discuss this later. I apologize for the language, my lady."

"That's up to you two," Adahni said, "But if you're coming, Lana, we're leaving now. No time for you to put on your face."

"You're not amusing, girl," Kailana scolded.

"And you're under my command. Mind that," Adahni said, "If you don't, you'll regret it much more than I do."

The mage opened her mouth to make some retort or other, but saw the look on the Knight Captain's face and shut it again. She remained silent, and followed her and Khelgar out of the Keep. The snow was deep, but days of foot and hoof traffic had worn a passable path through it. Adahni drew her blade and held it, and her shield, high over her head as the three of them trudged from the Keep to the main road. There, atop the hilly road leading up to the keep, Adahni looked down upon the valley where the river wound its way through the fields of barley and rye, now dormant beneath the thick white blanket. The path down there, though, was wider, and more accessible, the black cobblestone of the road showing through the snow, dirty from being stepped in again and again and again.

A small troop of Greycloak archers, boys she recognized as some of the first to join her company, met them at the top of the road. By their side was Daeghun, outfitted in the ranger's gear that Adahni remembered him wearing occasionally while growing up. He stood silently by while the erstwhile leader of the archer's squad greeted her, "My lady, we've arrived at the outskirts. With all this smoke in the air, the enemy can't be far."

Adahni took another look around. What she had taken for mist on the horizon, was indeed smoke.

"They're melting their way through," the Greycloak said, "The snow won't slow them a bit."

"I'm going to need you all to watch back," Adahni said, "The dwarf and I are going in first. We'll need as much arrow cover as possible."

"So you've arrived," Daeghun commented as the archers took their places, lining themselves along the side of the road, where they had a good vista of the river below. "We have little time, for your men fight for their lives as we speak."

She followed his gaze to the bottom of the hill, where yet another group of Greycloaks, these swordsmen, were battling a small group of skeletons. "Glad to see you helping them," she muttered, "Thanks dad."

"Save your greetings, the enemy may soon hold these bridges. You need to strike swiftly, if you are to succeed. I have spent some time observing the battlefield. Though your men fiht in the fileds, the true test will come at the bridges."

"Let's not waste any time then," Adahni replied, "Night will come sooner than we think."

"Farewell then. I will return to the Keep – guard yourself well, and move swiftly."

He cast a swift glance over Khelgar and Kailana, and made good on his word.

Adahni rushed down the hill, the Sword of Gith held high above her head. She was upon the skeletons in no time, but something odd happened. A sickly green mist rose up among them, and they shattered, falling to pieces on the ground. She turned around, and saw Kailana, her hands raised over her head in a silent spell, and realized very quickly just how serious the old woman was about her power. She nodded her thanks at the former Hosttower mage, and went to see to the captain of the Greycloak swordsman.

"Captain, we're glad to see you!" he exclaimed, and Adahni recognized the Luskan Fray Trovo and a group of his men, "As always, we're at your disposal."

"Follow the dwarf. His name's Khelgar."

"Damn right, follow me!" Khelgar bellowed, "We'll show that spell-slinging wench what a man can do with his might and blade!"

Without asking for leave, the dwarf, followed by the Greycloaks, rushed off at the next band of enemies, who had taken up residence behind a barn further down the road, close to the first bridge slated for demolition. They were weaker creatures – skeletons again mostly accompanied by a particularly stinky pair of ghasts. She shouted for the swordsman to hold up, but it was no use as Khelgar, and then the Greycloaks, ran screaming into their midst, laying about with broadsword and battlaxe. She found herself with little choice but to follow them, and added her own shrill war cry to the din as she grasped the Sword of Gith and felt its power shoot straight through the scar upon her breast.

There was no time to think. Under the command of the dwarf, the Luskan Troop had headed for the first bridge. She bade the archers cover her, and she joined the band to cut down another set of Undead and cast their husks into the river. The skeleton bones made rasping sounds as they broke through the ice and were carried along in the current. They pressed on, followed at greater and greater lengths by Kailana, whose spirit was willing, but whose joints were arthritic. Adahni wished for a moment that they had brought Sand – what he did not have in brute force, or whatever a mage's equivalent was – he made up in spryness.

They reached the dry land at the end of the second bridge. Here, the snow had been completely cleared, and road wound like a black snake up through the hills before them. In the center of the road, waiting for them, was a Shadow Priest, one of those fellows wearing the creepy masks that Adahni had first encountered in the tomb outside of Fort Locke.

"Master," it hissed as she approached, "The Shard-Bearer..."

"Ah, the Captain of Crossroad Keep. It has been some time." Adahni looked up to see a Shadow Reaver, larger than either of the ones she had slain before, stroll down the road as though he owned the place. She realized after a moment, that while it bore resemblance to the others, this Shadow Reaver had once been Black Garius himself. He took his place next to the Shadow Priest and put one skeletal hand on his shoulder.

"Not nearly long enough," Adahni said, "Your army is looking rather meager, Garius."

"You are a fool to have come here," he said, cackling, "You may stand atop the battlements now, but know that I have come to reclaim my former home."

"Good luck with that," Adahni said, "I'd like to see you try setting foot in _my _keep."

"I need not set foot there. Your forces will be washed aside by the coming shadow. Things have changed Shard-Bearer. My King will soon tear through the confines of his prison. His power crosses such boundaries, and may be granted to vessels of his choosing – like me."

Garius raised his arms, and the earth split open in cracks. From the cracks scrambled a dozen corpses, their flesh hanging from their bones. With a motion of his bony hands, they grew to twice the size of the normal men they had once been. Adahni chuckled. They looked more dangerous, but she was not sure that they actually were. No matter – she dared not show fear in front of the Greycloaks.

"Is that meant to frighten me?"

"No. My intention is to kill you. Fear is but sweet excess," Garius sighed happily.

"And now captain," shrieked the Shadow Priest, "You wil-" He stopped midsentence as an arrow pierced his throat, showering the undead around him in blood. Adahni looked up to see Daeghun and a band of archers atop the ridge immediately behind the band of undead.

"No time to talk!" Daeghun yelled down, less than helpfully, "Hurry, that you may return to the Keep!"

While Adahni put on a good show of not being intimidated by the giant corpses, it appeared the Luskans had not fallen for her ruse. Even with Daeghun and his band covering their backs, and Kailana slinging spells every which way, all but one of the Luskans fell. That final Luskan was their leader, Fray Trovo, and he sustained a grievous wound, two arrows sticking out of his chest. Khelgar bandaged him up as best he could, and Adahni went to do something that she had been wanting to do since the first time she'd seen a Shadow Priest, but could never bring herself to actually do...she reached down, and took off his mask.

_Her _mask. When she tugged off the Shadow Priest's mask, the cowl on her robe fell off and long auburn curls tumbled out and around her head. It was a very young woman, her skin pale since Trovo had robbed her of her lifeblood, and her green eyes glazed over and staring sightless at the sky.

"Good thing she wore a mask," Trovo commented, coughing blood, "Might have thought twice about putting a dagger twixt her tits if I'd known there were tits there..."

"I knew her," Kailana said grimly, "That's Delinia Harkins. I'd know that hair anywhere. She was the apprentice of a mage named Garius. I wonder how the poor girl got mixed up in all this?"

"Clearly someone's left you out of the loop," Adahni said, "Well, she's dead now, boo hoo and all that. Let's press on, then, no sense in mourning the stupid." Gods, Delinia... where have I heard that name before?"

"Knight-Captain!" Trovo called her over. She went, and knelt by his side. He was scrabbling at his own chest.

"Don't try to remove the arrows, it'll make the bleeding worse."

"Oh, come off it. I'm done for," he said, "Look, I need a favor. I have a sweetheart, a kitchen girl name of Jasynda. I guess I knew I probably wasn't coming back but... look she gave me this ring..." His fingers found what they were looking for, a ring of gold inscribed in Elvish, which hung on a chain around his neck, "If you come through this, can you take it back to her for me? She works at a bar on the Luskan Docks. It's called the Cuckoo's Nest." He gave the chain a yank, and it snapped free. He pressed the cold metal into her hand. "And tell her I loved her to the end," he said, more blood running our of his mouth. Adahni nodded, taking the ring.

"You're wasting our time here," Daeghun chided.

"Come off it, knife-ears," Khelgar muttered, "The lad's dying."

"As will we all one day," he replied, "Do what you must, but hurry back."

"Do you want this quick or slow?" Adahni, who had learned to tune out Daeghun by her tenth birthday, asked the dying soldiers.

"I've made my peace," Trovo gurgled, "Take me away from it."

Adahni grasped both arrows with her gloved hands and twisted as she yanked them free. His blood flowed freely, and she could have sworn she saw him smile as the color drained from his face, and the red spread around him like wings in the snow. She shut his eyes with her thumbs, and got up to trudge back across the bridges. They crossed first one bridge, then the other, setting charges with the gnomish blastglobes that Grobnar had so kindly given them. Adahni lit a smoke as they walked. She hadn't known Trovo long at all, and had perhaps spoken to him for a grand total of half an hour, but he'd followed orders and been a good soldier, and it was always tragic to see a young person die and leave a sweetheart behind. She tossed it behind her as they walked back up to the keep, and she heard the satisfying sound of explosions, followed by the groan of wood and the crack of ice as the bridges collapsed into the river. She looked down at the ring in her hand, and wondered what Jasynda was like and if she would live to return the ring to her at the Cuckoo's Nest.

The Cuckoo's Nest.

That's where she'd heard the name Delinia, from Kath. Kath, sitting next to her at the Phoenix Tail Inn and telling her that she'd seen Kyla's boy - Bishop, and he'd gotten drunk and said that he'd set out for Neverwinter after talking to a girl named Delinia. And there, lying dead across the river was a woman named Delinia Harkins, who Kailana said was none other than apprentice to Black Garius himself.

"Mystery solved," she muttered to herself, tucking the ring into her pocket and trudging back up the hill to the keep, "Mystery fucking solved."


	100. The Darkest Day of the Year

The light was waning as they made it to the outer walls of the keep. It could not have been much past noon, but it was the darkest day of the year, and Adahni could smell the promise of more snow on the wind. Kailana barely kept up with them, and as they neared the keep, she peeled off without asking leave, presumably to go hide with the rest of the civilians. A war-mage she was not, Adahni thought, better versed in playing politics in Luskan than fighting any real sort of threat. Still, she thought, the aging enchantress had put forth a valiant effort. Khelgar, too, saluted and then went off on his own. His time with Helvynn was short, and Adahni knew it, and did not try to stop him.

Kana, Daeghun and Nevalle met them at the gate.

"Captain," Kana called, "I heard that you had just arrived. It is good to see you safe."

"I suppose the King of Shadow's army will need to swim now," Adahni quipped.

"Despite our victory, we bring unwelcome news," Daeghun, ever the downer, said, "Black Garius was present and possesses powers that can turn the battle in their favor."

"Aye," Adahni agreed, reluctant to let the sweet taste of victory fall from her mouth, "It is true that they are no normal undead. The corpses he brought forth had a strength I'd not seen before."

"Garius can empower the dead, making them stronger. With that power, even their weakest footsoldiers become a threat to us."

"Strong they may be," Kana said, "But bones will still break, just as rotting flesh may be pierced."

"They fell before our swords today," Adahni said, "We've no choice but to face them again tonight. For right now, though, the cold cuts to my very bones. This talk may be had inside by the fire."

"Yes," Kana said, "The Keep is still standing and warm, for the meantime. Rest tonight, and we'll discuss today's events on the morrow."

_If it ever comes, _Adahni thought cynically, and followed Kana's back into the Keep. In the torch and firelight inside, you never would have known what approached from the outside. She paused absently in the main hall, and then went to her chamber to change into something more comfortable. Armor could wait.

In a more comfortable woolen shift, her hair let loose and hanging around her shoulders, she warmed her hands at the fire. Her mind was refreshingly blank. Some part of her knew that she ought to be terrified, and shaken, at what she had seen, those great and rotting corpses that had slain her companions and now converged on her home, but she felt no such thing. Instead, she felt exceedingly comfortable and lazy. As such, the frantic knocking which came on her door not long after she sat down nearly startled her out of her chair.

"Enter!" she called.

"You have returned!" Casavir exclaimed, rushing into the room with the bumbling gait of a new puppy. He, too, was out of armor and probably relishing feeling something besides cold leather against his skin, "I am happy to see that the battle went well, and you are safe."

"Would I ever disappoint?" Adahni asked, and offered him the other chair. He sat down, leaning forward on his knees.

"Forgive me," he said, "But there is little time remaining before the next battle, and I was wondering if I might speak to you. There is something that is..."

"Let me guess," she said, "Something is troubling you. Let me guess. Does it have to do with your mother? Your former wife? The dwarf's morning breath?"

"Well yes," he said, "Yes, something is troubling me, no to... all those other things." His voice was oddly softer than she was used to, and despite having learned to read him over the past year or so, she found herself at an utter loss as to what he could possibly be after.

"All right. Go on," she said cautiously.

"I was wondering if we might speak somewhere without interruptions. Perhaps upon the castle walls for a time – would could observe the troops, yet there is little chance of us being disturbed."

"We're in my chamber, Cas, I can give an order for nobody to disturb me," she said, "I am lady of this manor, after all." At this suggestion, the paladin looked positively uncomfortable, and she relented, "All right. The walls it is. Back into the damn cold..." She grabbed her cloak from where it hung on the wall and pinned it about her, pulling the cowl up to cover her ears. They walked in silence through the main hall towards the staircase.

All of a sudden, Adahni heard a deep bark from behind her. She turned to see Karnwyr, the gray wolf, prancing through the halls towards her. She instinctively knelt and scratched her behind the ears. The wolf took this opportunity to grab hold of her sleeve with her teeth and yank it, pulling her towards the door.

"Not now, love," Adahni chided the wolf. Karnwyr barked insistently, and galloped towards the door, looking back at Addie expectantly.

"Not now! Go lie down!" she commanded, though she knew that the wolf who was not, despite appearances, a tame creature, would not obey. Karnwyr gave a growl of disappointment, and slunk off somewhere. Adahni ran to catch up with Casavir, who was halfway up the staircase already. When she caught up, he was already leaning on the battlements, looking up at the gray sky. It had become even darker, though it was not late, but it certainly seemed so.

"There is death in the air this night," Casavir said, looking out over the keep.

"Let me guess," Adahni teased, "That troubles you."

Casavir was silent a long minute, not looking at her, "I..." he began.

"Out with it you great lout," she said, keeping her words light and joking, though something in the pit of her stomach told her whatever he had to say, she was not prepared to hear. She had seen him like this once before, on another winter night, under the balcony of a lady he was courting. _And what then? _She thought, _If after all this time..._

"I am here... with you," he said, as though choking on every word, "There is little that could touch me in your presence. There is... something I must tell you before this battle is joined..."

_Oh no. Oh no. Not now, _she thought.

"I wish to thank you for all that you have done for me," he said. He finally looked down at her, his eyes pale blue and very serious, "You have made me stronger, restored my faith by making me see the good in feeling something for another."

She kept her mouth shut in a tight worried line, unsure of how to respond. Luckily enough, he seemed have a whole speech rehearsed, and he continued.

"Although it is dark," he said, his voice gathering strength and depth, "You shine brightly to me. There is nothing that can stand against us when we are together – in this life or the next."

"Cas... I..." she started, but the paladin, having finally found words of his own, pressed on, undeterred.

"I shall follow you. My sword, and my heart, are yours."

As Casavir, the paladin who had not the words to tell Vania of his love, found his tongue, Adahni, the bard who had made her life with her words, lost hers entirely. She stood there like an idiot, staring up at him in the half light of winter.

"My... lady? Have I been too forward?" he asked.

"Ah... I mean.. Cas... I," she stuttered. _He wants something of you, _she told herself,_ He's _expecting _something of you. Come _on, _Addie, say something! Tell him something pretty, how long you were so embarrassingly in love with him before he declared his intentions to woo Vania, how many songs you poured forth from your heart for _his _benefit! Tell him! _The words, though, the words eluded her completely.

"Please, Addie," he said, stepping awkwardly forward and cupping her chin in his hand, "I know..." Slowly, shyly, he bent down and caught her mouth with his. She stood there for a long moment, while the snow started to fall, and let him kiss her. Let him run his hands through her tangled hair and down her back. Involuntarily, she put her own hands up, holding his face. Half of her mind was blank as it had been sitting before the fire. The other half was screaming at her. _Do something, Addie! Tell him! Say something._

He grew more demanding by the second, the look on his face becoming almost predatory. He shoved her up against the stone wall of the battlement and lifted her right leg. She wrapped it around his waist, again involuntarily. She was reminded of something as he moved down, moving his mouth over her neck, shoving her cloak aside and putting his hand on her breast as though he would have her right there on the castle walls. The cold began to creep up from her stomach as her skirt was shoved roughly over her knee, and she stood there and took it, just like she used waited for the lightning, the fire she felt when she was with a man, the irresistible impulse to open herself to him. She tried kissing him back, tried to match his enthusiasm, tried to get caught up in the moment, when all of a sudden, he gripped her agonizingly hard and panted. It took her a moment to realize what had happened, and when she did it was with a mixture of amusement and relief.

"My lady... I..." the paladin stammered, stepping awkwardly backwards.

"Don't worry," she said.

"No, I mean, I just..."

"Cas, I was a whore for near five years, I know what it's like when a man climaxes in his pants," she said, crudely.

"This doesn't usually happen to me," he insisted, his face beet red.

"It's quite all right," she said. She reached out her hand clumsily, and pulled him to her, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Oh," he said, and it sounded like a defeat, "So... you don't love me," he stated, "I... I spoke with Neeshka, and she said... that perhaps you might feel the same..."

She hesitated, "I fear, Cas, we have too much in common. We both wanted something for so long, and then once we got it, it wasn't what we thought." Shefell silent a moment. "There was a moment," she conceded. It was true. She had loved him, to be sure, but no longer. The thought of him going any further than he had left her utterly cold, remembering what it was to be taken without having any say in whether she wanted it or not, and she was relieved when he backed off without a fight, "I did. Cas, I promise you I did. But even if you'd felt the same way then... I'm broken. I've been broken for a long time. We were not meant to be in this life, even at the bitter end of it."

He nodded, "I understand what you mean. I suppose... had things been different."

"Had things been different, we never would have met," she said, "And I hope you believe me that I would never change that."

He smiled a bit then, and she felt a little better. "I suppose you're right. Forgive me. I suppose, knowing that death is on the air, knowing that we may not live out the night, I sought some comfort in your arms."

"Could you imagine, if we were to both live, how utterly wrong for each other we would be?" she chuckled.

"Then I suppose I will have to await another life," he said. He put his arm around her shoulder, and looked out over the courtyard. The Greycloaks were on the move, marching about, clashing swords, loosing arrows at targets, "Perhaps we will come back as pigeons, or as foxes. Simple woodland creatures who don't have such silly things to complicate love."

"It's true. People are complicated," she said, "I don't know that I can offer you the kind of comfort you sought, but I hope I can offer you something. You've been loyal to me, Cas, even when it's not been in your own best interest. Come back down to the hall."

"My lady, I wouldn't want to..." he said, but followed her as she turned.

"Hush," she said, and capered down the stairs, feeling free as a seagull wheeling over the harbor. Down the spiral staircase to the main hall she went, the paladin at her heels, but went past the door to her chamber and down into the basement, where the strains of music echoed off the stone walls.

The halflings of Leeves had lit a fire in the great fireplace at the end of the room, and the glowing remnants of the ritual which had made a shadow reaver of Black Garius was dirtied by a hundred dancing shoes. Halflings and humans, elves and dwarves, played and sang and danced. Nearly all of her companions were there already. Khelgar and Helvynn skipped gaily around the floor, nearly shaking stones loose, Elanee was being guided around by an ungainly young Greycloak, and Neeshka's tail was swinging about in time with the music as she let Cormick whirl her around and around. Nicky Sibley, the erstwhile mayor of the defunct village, presided over it on a chair set up on a table overflowing with food and wine. Roast goose and a whole pig with an apple in its mouth and stews and breads... they must have emptied the larders.

"You're _celebrating_? On the eve of battle?" Casavir rumbled, incredulously, looking over the scene.

"With all due respect, sir," Mrs. Sibley said, "If the King of Shadows can stop us from havin' a dance on Midwinter then he's already won!"

The paladin had no time to respond, for Adahni seized him, put his hand on her waist, and dragged him out into the middle of the floor to the sounds of the pipes and fiddles and drums. The set seemed to go on and on. The heat of the fire and the dance made her break a sweat for the first time in a month or more, and she felt the hot blood coursing through her veins, reminding her with each whooshing beat of her heart that she was alive, and it was brilliant. Even the paladin, no doubt disappointed a bit, but taking the consolation prize like a champion, had a grin on his face by the time the band ended the set and the halflings began to herd the big folk in to a big circle. Milo Delving, the captain of the small guard and Grobnar's lover, stepped forward as the drummer began to beat out a fast and syncopated rhythm.

_The wren! The wren! The king of all birds!_

_On midwinter's day he was caught in the forest!_

_So it's up with the kettle and down with the pan!_

_Won't you give us a penny to bury the wren!_

Milo chanted it first, and the rest of the halflings repeated. Like the Midwinter Brawl in Westharbor, Adahni imagined, this must be what the people of Leeves did every year. Made a little sense, she thought, though if she were the size of a halfling then perhaps a wren would be a fearsome quarry indeed.

_And it's the darkest day, that's why we're here_

_Please be good enough to give us an ear_

_For we'll sing and we'll dance if you give us a chance_

_And we won't be coming back for another whole year_

_Won't you please give us something for the little bird's wake_

_A big lump of pudding or a barley cake_

_A fist full of goose and a hot cup of tay_

_And then we'll all be going on our way!_

The band took this as its cue to begin playing again, and Milo picked up his squeezebox again. One of the halfling guards grabbed her thumb in his hand, and she laughed, and danced with him for a set. Then Bevil, and Cormick, and Khelgar, and two of the Greycloaks, who expressed their honor that she would grace them with a dance. She collapsed, exhausted, in a pile on the floor and laid there for a moment.

A sentry had crept in when she wasn't looking. He looked nervously around the room, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Knight Captain," he said, "The enemy has been spotted on the edges of the fields. It's begun."

She scrambled to her feet and shot a look to the band, who finished the set early, to the protests of those still dancing.

"Well, boys," she shouted, as all eyes on the room turned to her. Her stomach was in knots, and she struggled to keep her voice steady, "And ladies. It seems our revels have been cut short. The enemy is upon us! To arms!"

The room froze.

"Follow me, my merry men!" she said, forcing the smile to remain on her face, "Armor up. Now that we've been reminded of exactly what it is we're fighting for, we will prevail! All the Dead Men of the Mere don't remember what it is to love. They don't remember what it is to dance at Midwinter or to kiss your sweetheart on the cheek. And _that _is why we will be victorious tonight. It is not walls of stone that protect us, but the hearts that beat in our bosoms."

"Here here!" bellowed Bevil, "To arms!"

"To arms!" roared Khelgar, "Send this shade back to the hells where he belongs!"

The bell in the chapel began to ring, the tone echoing around the basement. After a long silence, the revelers scattered like mice. Adahni trudged back up to her chamber to prepare to face the coming wave.


	101. The Midwinter Battle

Back in armor, Adahni met her companions in the war room. None were drunk, all were armored up, sitting around the table, their faces gaunt and grim.

"Captain, let us begin," Kana said,, "There is little time left for talk. The King of Shadows' army is nearly at the outer walls."

"Garius brings his army at an early hour," Ammon Jerro commented, "Surprise is his ally here, but his cover of darkness will not last. No doubt he plans on a swift victory."

"Dawn comes late these days," Adahni said nervously, "He comes at the longest night of the year."

"His siege towers have been spotted in the distance, and our men will need your guidance on the wall to repulse them."

"Guidance?" Adahni muttered, "How much guidance do you need to bust a tower?" She sighed, and thought for a moment. A smaller force would move quickly. "All right. Khelgar, I'm going to need you again. We need dwarven warriors with axes. And..." she looked around, wishing Bishop were there to take command of archers, "Qara," she finally said.

"Me?" Qara squeaked, "You've never..."

"Yes, because I don't like you and I certainly don't trust you," Adahni said, "But remember how I told you when I needed something blown up, you'd be the first one I'd call?"

"So you actually want me to set things on fire," Qara said, skeptically.

"That's exactly what I want," Adahni replied. Qara clapped her hands excitedly. "Kana," she continued, "We need some archers for some covering fire." Kana nodded, and went off to give the orders. "Morning is a long time coming," she said, sighing, "But we have no choice. We must hold."

"We shall hold," Ammon Jerro said, "Even if Black Garius manages to invade the outer courtyard, his forces will find our inner walls doubly difficult to breach." Adahni looked at him in surprise.

"Why Jerro," Adahni said, cracking a smile, "You sound downright encouraging."

"We will hold," Jerro said again, putting both hands on her shoulders, "One thing at a time."

"Come back to us quickly, my lady," Casavir said. She graced him with a tightlipped smile and walked out of the door.

The climb to the outer walls wasn't long at all, but the snow made the going slower than she had planned for. They met in the courtyard, the archer's squad, the same group of smoothfaced boys who had been with Daeghun the day before, and the dwarven warriors. Several of Khelgar's bearded cousins, and three representatives of the Hammerforge Clan, including Helvynn, her blond hair trussed up and stuffed under a horned helmet. They trudge through the snow, the humans first, making the going easier for the dwarves, for whom the snow came up to the thigh.

Atop the walls, they were met by a scout who had been peering out into the darkness with a telescope.

"We've done all we can to slow their advance, but they're too well-shielded," he said, gesturing to the archers who were loosing arrow after arrow, trying to penetrate the ranks. She could see them moving over the land, their torches. Like she had seen from the top of the keep during the Battle of Highcliff, they were lit with both fires and an eerie green glow. She counted vampires and shades among their numbers, as well as a few lumbering corpses. The siege towers stood blackly against them in the moonlight.

"For certain, our walls are ready for the attack – fully rebuilt and reinforced. The catapults and arrows won't be coming through easily, even if the siege towers do. I almost pity the enemy – the arrow loops we added to the walls will tear them to shreds, once the towers dock."

"Well gods, _you _didn't design them, I don't see what you're so proud of," Adahni said, "Axemen, I want you to concentrate on the right side facing out. They may be full of supernatural beings, but they're made of wood like everything else. Archers, I'm going to need you to watch our backs. I've got a few blastglobes in my pack, Qara and I will take out the towers over on the other side."

There were about fifteen or twenty terrible minutes as they could do nothing but watch as the towers slowly moved towards them. Adahni smoked compulsively in silence. None were in the mood for anything but the task at hand.

The groan of wood on stone alerted her that a tower had docked in the area allocated to the dwarves. The armored dwarves clattered over to the tower like they were ordered. Another docked in her and Qara's territory. She saw a flash, and the tower was knocked backwards in flames. She heard what she imagined her the screams of the undead as they crashed down to earth, and looked at Qara in a mix of awe and fear. With a flick of her wrist, she had summoned lightning from her other hand and sent it at the other tower. The dwarves let their axes fall by their sides as the undead they had been fighting convulsed and died. Helvynn nudged the tower with the toe of her boot, and it toppled back.

Three other towers moved towards them, and the petite sorceress beat them back. Fire and freezing air and lightning and acid issued alternately from her, until the towers were no more. Feeling utterly useless, Adahni watched her weave the spells out of the air, almost as though she were dancing. She was oddly beautiful, destroying the undead in the moonlight.

The towers were one thing, a small victory, she thought as the last one fell.

"Captain!" an archer called, to remind her of this, "The gate will not hold!"

Adahni looked down and saw three vampire mages standing before the wooden gate. She looked down to her side of the wall and saw her troops. "Get away from the gate!" she yelled down at them, and the Greycloaks scattered just before a great fireball blew the gates to pieces.

"They're coming through!" called one of the soldiers from the ground.

"Fall back!" she shrieked, "To the inner courtyard. I'll join you shortly. Either at the Keep or in the hells!"

They scrambled down the walls and ran back through the inner gate, the coming horde at their heels. They could outrun the slow and stiff undead, but their arrows were another matter. Adahni caught one on her shield. Qara held them off with fire and acid, but it slowed them dreadfully. Two of her archers fell. Adahni ordered the most heavily armored to cover them, and the rest of them made it back to the keep mostly in one piece. Khelgar and his dwarves fell obligingly in line.

Kana and Nevalle were waiting in the courtyard, along with the rest of her companions.

"There are still men on the wall," she said, "Leave the gate open. We have some time. Their siege towers are down."

"There's some good news," a familiar voice said. She looked over to where it came from, and saw, along with the rest of her companions, Bishop, standing in the courtyard as though he had never left.

"Where... what..." she began, her heart sinking. This could not be good news.

"I arrived earlier in the night," he said, "I sought you out, but you were... busy." He looked down at her, a sly smile playing about his lips, "What, you're not happy to see me?"

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"Here and there. Trying to outrun something I could not outrun," he said, smirking. She watched his face for a long time. She could have run to him, thrown herself into his arms. She almost wished that she were more innocent, that she could just trust him, but she could not. She did, though, go up to him and take his hand in hers.

"It's good to have you back."

He was silent, but the smirk left his face, and he just stared back at her, as though he wanted to say something, but could string the words together. She tried to read his expression. He looked, once his typical sardonic expression was gone, absolutely miserable and lost, his eyes searching her as she searched him.

"Now is not the time for reunions," Casavir grumbled, scowling at the ranger, "I don't know that this one's presence will bring us good fortune. My lady, I would caution you to..."

"Come off it, Cas, you had plenty of time to deck him while I was gone," she snapped at the paladin, "Bishop, you'll forgive me if-"

The howl went up behind her before she could finish her sentence. She whirled to see that one of the dwarves had fallen to his knees. That Khelgar had swooped in to catch her told Addie which one it was. Helvynn pulled off her helmet and tossed it aside, revealing her blond hair streaked with red. She then reached behind her and unbuckled her chest plate, tossing it on the snow. The amount of blood that sloshed out of it told Adahni that her wounds were grave. Khelgar pulled off her back plate, and Adahni could see where the arrow had gone in in the gap between her am and shoulder blade. At that angle, if it had gone in any further, it would have come out from under her breast.

"I need a priest!" Khelgar bellowed.

"No, love," Helvynn said, her breath shallow, "It's too late for all that, then."

"No Helvynn," he groaned, bearing her weight down gently to the ground, "Helvynn!" He shook her, "Oh gods, no, not yet! It's only just begun!"

Helvynn's head lolled back on his arms and her eyes glazed over, staring lifelessly out into the darkness.

"Helvynn!" he roared, but she was gone and there was no calling her back. "Oh gods dammit Helvynn..."

Adahni walked cautiously up to him and put a hand reassuringly on his bald pate.

"Let me at them, Addie," he said, his voice low, soft, and dangerous, "Put me on the front lines. I'll take them out."

"Khelgar, I'm so sorry," she said, "She was so brave..."

"Aye, until the end," he said. He wiped his eyes with one hand and succeeded in painting his face with a red bandit's mask of blood, "Let me at them."

"You'll have your opportunity soon enough," Adahni said, putting her hand on Khelgar's bald pate, "We all will." She looked up as the last of the Greycloaks that had been manning the outer walls tumbled through the gates. She was saddened to see how few of them had survived.

"Close the gates!" shouted Kana, "Quickly."

Two sturdy Greycloaks went to the great wheel that controlled the black wrought-iron gate that they were all relying on to buy them some time. It took two men to operate. The two of them threw their weight into it, and the wheel turned, but nothing happened. Adahni furrowed her brow. If the wheel were turning but the gate did not come down, there must be something wrong with the gears and chains within the mechanism. But it was new! She'd had it shipped from an engineer in Neverwinter only months before, and he had installed it himself... _gods damn shoddy Gnomish work _she thought at first, but this was strange. If it had simply broken, then why was the gate locked open? Why did it not simply fall closed?

_Someone must have fucked with it, _she realized. She looked up and around. _Someone did this on purpose. _And she had to admit – there was one very likely culprit. She looked up at Bishop, who was standing across the courtyard, looking back at her. She felt her brows furrow, her lip quiver, and she bit it harshly to keep herself from showing outwardly the double punch in the gut she had just received.

"If you stay on the walls, you might live through this," he said, walking up to her. She felt sick to her stomach, "For what it's worth, you almost had me back... but that's why I'm going to have to do this..."

"Kyrwan..." she sighed, shaking her head, "What have you done?"

"It was much easier to destroy than I thought," he said. She looked in his face for something to tell her what was really going on, but he had his mask fully on, and all she could see was a contemptuous smirk, "I think you'll see the wisdom of this in time – the road's always open to the winning side, Captain."

She wasn't quite sure what he was expecting her to do, but considering he didn't even try to defend himself as she wound up and punched him as hard as she could across the face, she figured it was probably not that. The first blow knocked him sprawling. The second broke a rib or two. She lifted him bodily from the ground, and he put up his hand to ward off the next blow.

"Get the fuck out of here," she growled, "I'll see you in hell."

He didn't need to be told twice. He turned around and half-jogged, half-limped, out of the courtyard.

"Well you didn't kill him," Kana said, "So I'm going to guess you're not going to order me to."

"Against my better judgment," Adahni said, "The gate will still serve us well, it will stem the tide. We will hold." She turned and looked at the rest of the people in the courtyard, holding the silver sword over her head. It flashed in the moonlight, "Did you hear me? We _hold._"

Some of the Greycloaks cheered weakly.

"The dawn may be a ways away, but it will come," she said, "We hold!"

Khelgar gave a hearty roar. With his love's blood growing cold on the frozen ground and still staining his armor, he raised his axe in the air and bellowed all the anger and sorrow. The rest echoed him, softly at first, and then louder and louder until the cacophony on battle cries drowned out the footsteps of the approaching dead. When the first walking corpses walked through the gate that Bishop had sabotaged, they had no idea what hit them. The ragtag army of Crossroad Keep swept over them like a wave. The lifeless reanimated piled high, and soon it was as though there was a new gate there, made entirely of the corpses of their enemies. By the time the sun began to peep over the horizon, Adahni was convinced that they had won the day.

Something was wrong, though, though they came more slowly, they continued to climb over their fallen companions. Finally, a great blast came as some mage outside cast a fireball into the wall of bodies, and they were all sprayed with rotting corpse guts. Through the gate, all strewn with body parts, strolled Black Garius himself.

"Do you think the dawn your friend?" he asked. Adahni raised her sword high in a gesture of defiance, "Please. By my lord's grace I can make creatures of darkness not fear the sun with a wish and a thought. Now, Captain, you will return my keep to me."

"Like hells I will," Adahni replied.

"We must deal with Garius – and quickly. As long as he maintains this spell, the leions under his command will only grow stronger," Ammon Jerro said, hurrying to her side and producing the True Name scroll from his sleeve.

Garius, meanwhile, raised his skeletal arms, opening a summoning portal in front of him. There materialized a shadowy creature, fourteen feet tall and black as the night against the coming dawn.

"My lord still waits at the threshold of this tiny world... but his avatar is more than enough to end you and your army," Garius rumbled.

"How has that worked out so far?" Adahni asked, "Does it mean nothing to you that everything you have tried since this farce began has run off me like water off a duck's back?" She raised the sword over her head and ran at the shadowy avatar. It looked at her mutely and raised his claw over his head to strike at her. She rolled out of the way, and brought the silver sword down. It recoiled, looking at its limb as though surprised that it had felt pain. She did it again, and again it looked confused. It struck at her, and she danced out of the way. Sand and Qara, meanwhile, were drawing on all the magical energy they could muster to bring it down, missiles and acid and fire. When it fell, melting into a black pool,Garius, evidently having learned nothing from his previous experiences with Adahni, was astonished.

"Quickly!" Ammon said, "We have to read the True Name."

"Well do it!" Adahni shrieked at him.

A blast of lightning from Garius's palm laid Zhjaeve on her back in the snow, providing enough distraction for Ammon Jerro to get a safe distance away and begin the incantation. He said it almost melodically this time, lending all the power he could muster to the words. When he finished them, punctuating the last word by thrusting his staff in the air, Garius indeed fell. As he retreated, the shadows and corpses did too, running back out over the fields as though summoned by a powerful force. Soon, only the truly dead remained.


	102. The Remains

The sun soon rose high in the sky, and it felt brighter and warmer than it had all winter. They built pyres right there in the courtyard and laid out the dead, their shields and weapons on their chests, side by side. Katriona and Bevil went around and checked names off so that parents, widows, and children could be notified. The surviving troops went out to the wall, where more were collected, and the fields outside were scoured. They found the halfling slingers, all of them cut down, their little bodies trapped under rubble that the shadow army's siege engines had knocked loose from the outer walls. Adahni watched the Greycloaks carrying them back, one under each arm, with sadness and loss. They laid Milo Delving next to Helvynn on the pyre and Adahni went off to notify Grobnar. The gnome had been stationed on the rooftop of one of the houses, providing covering fire with his shortbow.

"Yes, I imagined," he said mildly, his face pink from the cold, "I suppose I didn't truly think this would have a happy ending. It's a dark tale indeed."

"Aye," Adahni agreed, "Do you want to... we're doing a service of sorts."

Grobnar nodded, looking thoroughly and miserably lost. "I can't help but think, Addie. If only I'd been able to find the Wendersnaven, perhaps he would have lived. Perhaps they all would have lived."

This statement struck Addie in the heart like an arrow, and she swooped down and scooped up the diminutive bard in her arms. He didn't really react, just sort of let her hold him for a moment, and thanked her when she put him down. They walked, side by side, to the main courtyard, where a priest of Helm, a priest of Tyr, and one the the Ironfists, who was a chaplain following Clangeddin were praying over the bodies. Khelgar stood, stonefaced, among his brothers and cousins and the few Hammerforges left.

"We've won the day," Nevalle said, putting a hand on Adahni's shoulder, "The sacrifices we made..."

"They made the sacrifices," Adahni said, "I haven't lost anything. I've asked these men and women to give up their lives. I can't really lay down and rest now, can I."

"No," he said, "It will never be over so long as the King of Shadows remains in his fortress."

"Let's hope that Aldanon has come up with something," she said, "We need to finish this. Now."

"Yes," Nevalle said, "But for now, you will stay right here by the side of your men while we send them into the next world."

"So I shall," she said. The priests finished their words. They were facing an oil shortage in the keep; with the ports iced over until spring and the roads from Neverwinter dangerous with the presence of the King of Shadows. And so, the priests sloshed barrels of whiskey over the dead. They went up like fireworks, burning hot and fast in the winter's morning. A Greycloak played a lament on a set of northern war pipes, the high notes sounding like sobbing. The song cried for all of them, for none of the soldiers could bring themselves to do it. As the morning wound down, the living went back to their quarters to take some well-earned rest, and the dead were reduced to ashes on the wind.

Adahni went to her quarters. She slept for a little while, no more than an hour or two, and awoke knowing that she could not put off the inevitable any longer. She washed, and put her armor back on. She then went to her chest where she kept her paints. She eschewed the brush she usually used and dipped her thumb right in the pot of black pigment. With bold, heavy, strokes she painted a black band around her eyes like a bandit's mask. She remembered Kyla referring jokingly to the shadows she used on her eyes and rouge for her lips as her 'war paint,' referring to the barbarian practice of making oneself up in a fearsome manner. She looked at herself in the mirror and bared her teeth. The effect of her pale eyes against the black paint was fearsome indeed. "Who would have ever thought I'd wear actual war paint," she said out loud to herself. She took one last look around her chamber, and went off to find Aldanon. To her surprise, the rest of her companions were already in the library, apparently awaiting her arrival.

"At last! You're here!" he exclaimed, making no comment on her appearance as she strode into the library. He and Kailana were sitting in the corner in front of the Tome. "This Tome you found … quite a wondrous thing really. I was able to use it to... I suppose the best layman's term is "unfetter" the connections between here and there."

"Unfetter?" Adahni asked, lowering and eyebrow, "And where is "there" and "here" exactly?"

"Yes, you see, the Tom has a certain duality to it, like two pages facing each other in a closed book. If you open them, they are apart, but closed they are right next to each other. You see?" he said.

"That is the most genius thing I have ever heard," Kailana commented.

"So, the book can make two points closer together?" Elanee paraphrased.

"Yes... the Tome can make a doorway, and it can also pinpoint a location within the Vale."

"What he's trying to say is that we can use the Tome to port into the lethal heart of Merdelain," Kailana explained.

"Why does everyone here seem to think that that's such a great idea?" Sand muttered.

"It should all work very well in theory," Aldanon said.

"In theory?" Adahni asked.

"It will take you where you want to go," Kailana said, "The Tome, once uncloaked, is said to be very dependable."

"So is the public transit system in Waterdeep," Adahni said, "'Dependable' is rather context-specific, don't you think?"

"Then we need to go at once, before the King of Shadows reroups. He and Garius will not wait long before they attack us again."

"Know that the King of Shadows' realm lies deep within the Mere, in one of the ancient ruins of the Illefarn emprire, in the ruins of what he was created to protect."

"It is in the heart of Merdelain. My people once called the Mere the "slow marching court" as the tides came in and slowly claimed the land. Now, it is the shadow that marches from there, slowly seepin into the land."

"Oh come on Elanee," Neeshka piped up. She was standing in the corner of the room in the shadows, so that only her hands were visible clearly, crossed over her stomach, her ruby wedding ring gleaming in the firelight, "What's the worst that could happen? I mean, that Addie... and us... haven't already faced?"

"The portal could accidentally take us into a different Vale. Say, one filled with lava. Hard to et out of that, let me tell you," Grobnar said. His words sounded like the old, flippant, gnome, but his voice was heavy and tired.

"Enough talk," grumbled Ammon Jerro, "Let's go."

"None of you have to come with me," Adahni said, "I just want to reiterate that one for the record..."

"Oh like hells you'll leave us out of this one!" Neeshka squealed, "What kind of world would we be leaving for our children if we don't defeat him?"

"Children, Neeshka?" Adahni asked. The tiefling girl blushed crimson and stepped from the shadows, "Oh Neesh, you can't be coming out there if you're with child..."

"Well Gods it's only been two months, there's no way of telling..." she started, and then threw up her hands, "But I can and I will. Don't you get it Addie? If we don't beat this thing then there will be no future for me, or Cormick, or the baby, or for anybody. Only slavery! And I won't sit here like some invalid while the rest of you try and do it on your own. I already missed most of the battle..."

"And the rest of you?" Adahni asked.

"I told you, lass. Just let me at them," Khelgar said heavily, "I've had enough of this world, anyway."

"And me," Grobnar said.

"I've seen this through from the beginning," Elanee offered, "I know what must be done."

"You'll be needing me," Ammon Jerro added, "I've dedicated my life to the defeat of the King of Shadows and I'll not abandon it now."

"Know that I am with you," Zhjaeve said.

"And me!" Qara said, "If you let me burn more things."

"Yes, you'll get to burn things," Adahni sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Like I said," Casavir said, "Perhaps now is the time to go on to the next life."

Adahni smiled widely at her companions, but all eyes had fallen on sand. The weaselly little elf looked around the room and sniffed deeply. "Well of course I'm coming," he said, "You'd all be lost without me, you great bumbling fools."

"All right," she said, "Aldanon..."

"Good luck to you all! We will all most likely die if you failt, but try to keep that from your mind," he said.

"Best of luck to you, Captain," Nevalle said, snapping a salute.

"May the gods watch over you," Kana said.

"My, I really do like these adventurers, such spirit. To face a being like the King of Shadows …. well I'd rather see that from a distance I can tell you that much," he said. He flipped through the pages, furiously, "Very well, here's the activation word... now, any time yo-"Aldanon's words and his actions were surprisingly incongruent, and before he could finish his sentence, a flash of light issued from the Tome of Iltkazar in his hands and world dissolved around them. Adahni had a brief vision that she was very small indeed and she was trapped in a book between two dark pages. And then some giant invisible hand opened the book again, and world rematerialized, only it was quite a different world indeed.

The stones looked much like those that made up the Guardian ruins outside of West Harbor, but whatever the building they found themselves in had once been, it was that no more. Over the centuries, dark water had seeped in. They were lit eerily by the crystalline ghostlights like those in the gem mines beneath Arvahn, which were clear and did not flicker, like ordinary torchlight.

As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she realized they were standing on what would have been a balcony over a large room, but the room was already flooded with the murky water of the Mere. She could see at the bottom, which was also lit by those eerie blue lights, the bones of the dead. At the end of the balcony, though, was a door, carved with a the same tree motif they had seen all over Illefarn ruins elsewhere.

"Great," Qara muttered, "We always go to the best places in the Realms. Are you sure that Tome worked right, Sand?"

"Yes it did, but without knowing the exact location where the King of Shadows is..."

"So the tome _was _useless then."

"We wouldn't even be here without it, you idiot girl, so I suggest-"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Adahni said, "We're as close as we could get."

"And maybe Aldanon chose to send us here," Qara said, "Or Sand. They wouldn't have been the first to betray us."

"Enough," Ammon Jerro commanded, ending the debate, 'The defenses of Illefarn still surround us – even if we had known his location we would have ended up here. Even with the Tome's power, the wards around Illefarn remain strong, indeed. Findin the King of Shadows will be even harder than I thought."

"Hard?" Neeshka said, pointing one spotted hand, "It looks like there's only one place to go – straight ahead. I don't think he's trying to hide at all."

"Good point," Ammon said, "I don't think he is either. And I think there's more than walls blocking our path ahead."

"Even in this place, something must still live," Casavir said, casting about, "I think we have not yet had our final say with the King of Shadows' allies... Garius or Bishop."

"Was that necessary, Cas?" Khelgar said, his voice gentle, "He may not even be here."

"The King of Shadows will not risk harm to himself when others may suffer for him."

"All right then," Adahni said, "Enough of that, Cas. We stick together. Come on."

Grobnar looked around. "Oh, I'm sorry, but I don't think Neeshka heard you – she, well – she seems to be gone."

Adahni looked to her left and right. The tiefling was, after all, very good at disappearing into shadow. She had made it her career for many years, and it was exceptionally easy in this shadowy place, Adahni would have imagined. "Thieves slip away all the time," Adahni said, trying to put the rest of her party at ease, "But still, we ought to find her."

"No, she was taken," Zhjaeve said mysteriously.

"By what? The King of Shadows?" Khelgar asked, "Does that happen? And how do you know it?"

The gith waived off his questions, "Know that I think we must be on our guard – and our wills must be focused on the task ahead. If we allow ourselves to be divided, in group or mind, then he will win."

"The gith is correct. We need to reach the King of Shadows – and quickly. If this is the only route before us, then so be it, but we must move on," Ammon said. The band of adventurers agreed, following behind the Warlock. As they walked through the gloom towards the door, his tattoos glowed brighter. The way was well paved, but smelled of decay, and was littered with corpses. As they picked their way gingerly along the hall, which had become an impromptu tomb for the ancients who had built it and those who came later to rob their bodies, Adahni heard a skittering that made her skin crawl.

Out of a pile of bodies, she heard the gruesome sound of bone scraping bone. At first she thought she would face an animated skeleton or corpse of the sort that the King of Shadows had sent her way before. She wasn't terribly scared – skeletons she had dispatched before. And then, she saw what looked like a misshapen pile of bones crawl toward her with the gait of a giant insect.

She froze as it occurred to her what she was looking at. Not a skeleton at all, or indeed any kind of undead, but a grotesque spider, nearly as tall as her waist. She recoiled and instinctively kicked it it away. It uttered a horrid screech and backed off, brandishing bony fangs.

"Ugh!" she cried, somehow much more unnerved by this creature than even the rotting corpses she had been fighting the whole time. Forgetting where she was she stepped back too far and fell will a splash into the dark water below. Grateful for the strenght the past two years had gotten her, she clawed her way back out. If the bag of bones she had been had fallen into the water wearing thirty pounds of armor, she would have sunk like a stone and become one of the corpses at the bottom of the Mere. She stood there, spluttering, trying to get the taste of death out of her mouth.

Meanwhile, Qara sent a fireball at the large spider which evaporated some of the water clinging to Adahni's body, and Adahni expected it to just shrivel up and die on its back like the ones she would sometimes find in her closet and burn with her dragon's breath, but not this one. It didn't but it did retreat back towards the pile of bones, but soon came at her again. Oddly enough, it looked as though the floor was moving beneath it, until she let out a shrill scream as she realized that hundreds and thousands of its offspring were accompanying it into battle.

"I think I've had nightmares that ended like this," Sand mused as he summoned lightning. It was a bit more effective that the fire, but the spiders kept on coming. Adahni and Khelgar focused on the mother spider, which continued shrieking in a bloodcurdling manner until they managed to put enough holes in it to go down. The babies they managed to keep stomping like disgruntled scullery maids until the remainder skittered back into the pile of bones.

"Let's hope that was the most terrifying we're going to see down here," Qara said.

"I can't imagine we'll be that lucky," Adahni said.

"Indeed, or lucky at all," Grobnar chirped. He had reached the door at the end of the balcony and was rattling the handle, "This door is locked securely and Neeshka's gone and vanished into the darkness! Such a silly thing to be stopped by, a simple locked door"

"That's a millenia old locking mechanism," Khelgar said, "Cas, will you give me a shoulder here? I'm a bit short to reach the weak spot."

The paladin obliged, throwing his weight at the door, hitting it right at the handle. Once, twice, he did, and the third time the ancient metal twisted with a groan and the door flew open. Beyond, it opened onto a room that once must have been a grand hall, for it put even Nasher's court in Neverwinter to shame. Adahni could imagine the balls that must have been held there.

"Such great civilization, and they all fell," Casavir said, "What chance does our own have, if the Illefarn who built such things were destroyed?"

"Not much of one," Adahni said, "Which is what's going to make the rest of this day matter. Steel yourselves. We're close."


	103. The Worth of Passion's Pledge

They followed the passage beyond down and down and down. The air, which had been stale and temperate, became cold and clammy, and the stench of death grew more intense by the minute. Eventually, the passage opened onto a grand hall. There, at the top of a great staircase, stood a tall, purple-robed Reaver.

"Ah," he rumbled as the place where his eyes used to be seemed to gaze upon them, "We have been expecting you."

Slowly, two other Shadow Reavers emerged from behind him to flank him.

"Three reavers? _Three?_" Sand exclaimed

"Our Master is ready to emerge on this plane... all that he required is what you brought with you. You have served your purpose in coming here, but you do not need to keep living to fulfill that purpose, I think," he continued.

"What does he mean by that?" Adahni asked warily, drawing her blade.

"He's bluffing," Khelgar said, "Trying to make you waver. He would not have sent his army against Crossroad if he'd intended the whole time for you to come down here."

"If you really wanted to deliver me to your master, you'd let me walk there myself," Adahni declared, "Just how stupid do you think I am? What in our entirely overlong history together tells you that this is going to end in any other way than me picking my way over the dust of your bones?"

The reavers looked at each other for a long moment, trying to sort out what it was she had just said, which incidentally gave Ammon Jerro enough time to read quickly through the True Names scroll and start the incantation. They realized that the band was quite ready for a fight, despite their battered appearance, and all three began weaving spells.

"I am so fucking tired," Adahni groaned, and threw herself into it. She was buffeted back by unnatural elements. Fire, wind, acid shed off of her armor, or burned and cracked her skin only for it to reform itself again under the influence of the copious magics her gear had cloaked her in – along with Zhjaeve's dogged administration of healing spells. She remembered how horrified the first time she had been when a wound she had administered that should have been fatal closed itself, and imagined the Shadow Reavers must have been feeling much the same way.

Unnerved by the sheer gall of it, the undead mages were sloppy. They left holes in their spellcloaks and gaps in their wards, which the blade-bearing of her companions had learned very well to exploit. Adahni bore blast after blast, which perhaps if they would not have killed her, would have hurt terribly. But now, she did not feel any pain. Pain was just a mechanism by which your skin told your brain that you were hurt. She knew that whether she was hurt or not was irrelevant. In her last hours, she would know what it was to be immortal. When they went down – and they did go down – she felt the burns on her skin healing, and stepped among their bones, grinding them into the ancient stone of the Illefarn ruin.

"Come on then," she called to her companions, who were had done their parts in the hacking-reavers-to-bits department, "There's nothing between him and us now."

"Not a comforting thought," Sand said, sniffing deeply, "But a necessary one I suppose."

"Lead on, Addie," Grobnar said, "I'm just about ready for this part to be over."

The reavers had been guarding a door at the end of the grand hall, carved with a tree, like other others. Through the door was a staircase descending down into the darkness. Adahni closed her eyes, and summoned the light of the aasimar, which guided their way further down into the depths. She was fairly sure that they were below the water line at this point, and she wondered what magic – or simply what amazing construction – was keeping the water from seeping in. It didn't feel damp at all come to think of it. She wondered if the rules of the world itself had been suspended in this place.

"Well lads and ladies," she said, as they came to the bottom of the staircase. Ahead they could see a round chamber, and even in the dim light that Adahni produced, they could see several living – or osmething like living – figures therein, "All those times we dragged ourselves through battle and worse, celebrating that we lived to fight another day... this is the day we've been living to fight for."

"Aye," Khelgar said, "And a ruddy great day it will be! Mark my words, the bards will sing out praises for a hundred years from now!"

"Know that we will not be forgotten," Zhjaeve said.

"Funny," Adahni sighed, "I've been trying to forget myself for ten years now. No sense in putting it off now." Putting one foot in front of the other, she forced herself to walk down the hall despite the frantic fear taking hold of her throat. The room opened onto a large, round chamber scattered with broken pieces of religious iconography – statues of goddesses, their disembodied hands holding fistfuls of glowing crystal. Huddled beneath one such statute was the tiefling. She struggled to her feet as the rest of them strode in, limping towards them, suffering from some unseen hurt.

"I kept holding on," she said, "Waiting for you. I knew you'd make it here, I _knew _it. It's all that kept me going."

"Let me attend to her wounds," Zhjaeve said, and, summoning some holy healing light, did so.

"Neeshka, what happened?" Adahni asked, taking the trembling girl in her arms, searching the girl for signs of her injuries.

"Garius... He tortured me, trying to get me to turn on you," she said, "But we can't stay – we need to get out of h-"

In a flash of darkness – did it count as a flash if it was just a sudden burst of black where light had been? - Garius appeared, flanked by two black iron blade golems.

"Ah, Garius," Sand sighed, "I thought I heard the shadowy slithering."

"So... you have made it here. I am impressed," Garius said, "But, really, what did you think that it would accomplish? You have done much to disrupt our war efforts. But you will answer for it – and you alone."

"Sounds good to me," Adahni said, "You leave my allies out of it, I'll leave yours."

"Oh, you misunderstand me, though your gesture of mercy will not go unpunished. Your companions... for them, I am prepared to offer mercy. You lead them, you ordered them. I spoke at some length with your friend Neeshka here... and with others you have traveled with."

"If any of you would turn against me," Adahni called back to her companions, "I suggest you let me know now. I'll have absolutely no qualms decorating this room with your guts."

"You have already felt the fractures growing within your tiny group, whether it be from the paths of power, or perhaps, from those who can think for themselves and recognize the true enemy here."

"Bishop," growled Casavir, and looked over Garius's shoulder to see the ranger striding in, limping a little from the short beating Adahni had given him back at the keep, but altogether not much worse off than he'd been before. Adahni's heart simultaneously sank and boiled as she gazed upon him.

"My debt to you is over, Knight-Captain," Bishop said. He walked up to them, stopping just shy of arms-length. Close enough for her to look him right in the eye, far enough for him to back up if she made any sudden moves with her blade, "And the strange thing is... I'm a little sorry about it. For what it's worth... I would have come back. But your Uncle... I stopped by the Sunken Flagon on my way back and... well let's just say it's hard to get past that part of it... even... even with everything else."

Adahni spat on the ground and refused to meet his gaze, looking instead at the flagstones in front of her, "You know what will happen if you lift that bow against me, Kyrwan Bishop of Barnslow," she said, "Perhaps I will fall today, but it's you that will fall right now. When I set foot in the hells, I will personally see to it that you're already there to greet me."

He commanded her attention as he threw his bow to the ground with a great clatter. She looked up in astonishment, to see that he had utterly lost his cool – something she was not used to seeing, even when he was angry he usually managed to keep himself together. "I can't help it... Gods damn it all, Addie, what the fuck choice did I ever have? My very conception was the ultimate act of evil – how in the hells else could I have turned out?"

Adahni was struck dumb, as were her companions. "You always have a choice," she replied, "Everyone does."

"Maybe you did, for some odd reason nobody seems to care what you once were, but me? The wost thing I've ever done wasn't something I've even done, it's who I _am._ I exist because a father raped his daughter." He turned to the rest of the companions, who, while happy for the temporary reprieve from the fighting, were a little confused. "There," he said, addressing them, "Are you happy? Does that put me together with a gods-damn bow on it? Turn me into a tragic story you can use to warn your children to be careful whom they take pity on? Fuck you all, I don't need your pity. Just like I didn't need Duncan's pity, that half-breed fool..." he looked at the floor, and then back at Adahni, his eyes almost pleading, "The most frustrating thing about it? I thought it would be easy to hate you as I did Duncan... but then I saw you again...that's why I have to do this..."

"Why betray me, then? Why not just take off, like you said you were going to?" she asked, "What happened to you, these last months?"

"Because it doesn't matter, Addie. It doesn't matter what I do, it doesn't matter how much I... how much I loved you. I am always going to be what I am. What I've always been. They made me understand," Bishop said, waving his hand around vaguely, "The shadows. That you were tying me down... I always wondered why you wouldn't come with me- then the bard got to me... Delinia was her name, she told me, convinced me to come back to you. The shadows were in my ears on the way, insisting to me that you would never take me back, that you thought nothing of me, and I'd been fooling myself all along. And it seems," he let his amber gaze slide conspicuously over to Casavir, "It seems they were right. I _was _a fool to think that you'd remember yourself once you'd gotten a fancy title and a castle and all that..."

"Oh gods," Adahni sighed, her face going scarlet, "Are you fucking kidding me? Is that what this is about? The very continuing existence of the world hangs in the balance, and you sabotage my gate, get dozens of men killed, because you're feeling angst about a girl? A girl, may I remind you, that you took off on nearly two months before?"

"Well when you put it like that..." Bishop said, "Look, it's not just that, it's the whole... you see, Duncan saved my life once. He found me outside my burning village, nothing but dead Luskan all around."

_And one very alive Neverwinter girl._ Adahni thought, _Now I know he's not telling this story for my benefit. Why, I think he's actually trying to explain himself to the rest of them. He's actually acting like he gives two shits about what they think of him. Could it be he feels... guilt? Really?_

"Thing is, I was the one who burned that place to the ground, and I didn't want any witnesses. Then Duncan comes along, right when I was wounded, barely holding on... and I can't do anything to silence him. That's it... really. Nothing complicated. Just settling debts that never should have been made."

"That was you then, in Barnslow," Adahni sighed, "I suppose I suspected." She remembered creeping out of the basement of the inn, wondering that she was not burned at all, and seeing what she thought was the corpse of an assassin on the ground. She'd spat on him, kicked him, angry that all the violence of Luskan had followed her far beyond its walls.

"I told you once," Bishop said, "You'd be surprised how many times our paths have crossed. It was my initiation into the Circle of Blades. It's something they order all recruits to do, whether they want to or not. And I don't care for that too much. You see, they order you to slaughter a Neverwinter village as part of the initiation ceremony. I decided to take care of two problems at once – and I chose my own."

Adahni only nodded, tears springing to her eyes involuntarily. She had seen precious little of Barnslow before it had burned, but it was the village that had shunned Bishop's mother after she'd become pregnant with Kyla. Who had blamed Kyla for what her own father had forced her to do. Who had blamed the small boy that Bishop had been for the nature of his conception.

"You know," he said, smiling painfully, "My village didn't even deserve to survive. Things were different there. We didn't talk about the nasty things that went on. When my mother – my grandmother I guess she was – died... her body hung there in the barn for days, rotting and stinking. Woman puts a noose around her neck and jumps from the hayloft in front of an eight year old boy, and nobody can be bothered to go cut her down and help her family bury her. She looked right at me, right in the eye, you know, as she was jumping...then my sister – my mother, gods it feels strange to admit that – paid a local lad to go cut her down. Gave him five silver and then afterward he demanded to lift her skirts and have his way with her... And she let him, she had no choice. _He_ looked me in the eye, too."

Deep down Adahni had known all along that things like this had happened. She remembered the first time she'd seen Bishop – adult Bishop – and they had walked through Barnslow. There, he'd stopped at the burnt out barn. The rope was still hanging from where... some things were too awful.

"They ran us out of town, my sister-mother and me," he said, "All the way to Luskan, where at least if you're going to get raped on a daily basis the going rate is much higher. I think our dear Knight Captain knows a thing or two about that, doesn't she. What's the standard pay for sucking a sailor's cock in an alley off the river these days?"

"Fifteen silvers," said Adahni, answering the question honestly, hoping perhaps he would see that she had not forgotten.

"When I was a little older, and they ordered me to destroy a village of my choosing, I saw a chance to kill the Luskans and kill that place that made me the fine, upstanding man you see before you... all as a fortunate accident. I was going to burn the village to try to kill the assassins who were atcing me. But those villagers... those fools. They died too. They burned like sheep trapped in a corral. I told them to leave, to run, but they wouldn't leave their houses, especially when _I _told them to, so they deserved it... I suppose..."

"And Duncan?" said Adahni.

"I took a few arrows, had some wounds. To be honest, wasn't sure I was going to get out of there at all. I was too weak to fight back, but it didn't matter, because for the first time, I felt all these chains come off me. I felt free, but then he came along, right at the end. He saved my life, then he said I owed him. In that stupid joking voice of his, but I knew what he meant. He was blackmailing me with what he knew. Then he called his debt due, and that debt was to help you..."

"And I was who I was," Adahni said.

"I don't like obligations," he said, looking down, "Like the threats of Luskans coming after me. Or...'

"Or me," Adahni said, "Or Garius?"

"Doesn't matter now, does it," Bishop said, "It's almost over."

"Come now, Bishop," Garius said, "As touching as that story was, we need to be on with this. Our master awaits."

"Was that an order I heard?" Adahni smirked, "And a reference to a 'master?' So the King of Shadows is your master now? Is that really an improvement? I mean, I don't think anyone has ever called me your mistress... at least in the sense that Garius means. Unless there's something else you're not telling us about."

"Still cracking jokes, even at the end of your very short life," Bishop said. They stood there for a long moment. Bishop had not taken his eyes off her, even while Garius was speaking. The undead mage cleared his throat then. And then another eternity of silence.

"No," Bishop finally said.

"No?" rumbled Garius, evidently taken aback.

"I said no," Bishop said, "I've had enough of this. Time to move on. Time to change." Adahni looked at him, puzzled. He took his bow from the ground, held it in his hands for a long moment, and then in a swift and graceful movement, snapped it in half across his knee. He threw the jagged pieces of ash at Garius, and turned to leave.

"You will die if you leave. I will come after you when I am done here."

"Don't be a fool Garius," he replied, "You'll die if you stay. She's much more dangerous than she looks." He straightened his cloak, and went for the door.

"Bishop!" Adahni called. _This is the last chance I'll get, _she thought. He didn't respond, but paused, one hand on the door, and looked back at her. "The shadows are notorious liars. I've always loved you. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." He stood still there a moment while a faint smile slipped over his mouth before he turned again, and disappeared into the darkness.

"Well now Garius," she said, turning to the undead mage. She felt a new strength and warmth within her as the words left her mouth, "Where were we?"


	104. An Honorable Death

Neeshka and Khelgar, her oldest companions, had come to flank her as Bishop walked off, Neeshka putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I will enjoy taking that smile from your face, girl," Garius growled, "Even Bishop left, the boy who clung to you from the moment he saw. You if he was so easy to turn, do you think all your companions who follow you, would follow you to death? I think not."

"I would die for her without hesitation," Casavir declared. Adahni looked at him, his face burning with... something. Love? Still? She felt sorry for him. She wouldn't have blamed him if he'd turned on her, or at least declined to die by her side.

"We are here, aren't we?" Elanee added, "I think you have underestimated us... and certainly her."

"Know that the choice is a simple one, Garius. If you fight us, you fight us all."

"Ah, of course," the mage said, and she heard a smile in his voice though there could be none on his fleshless face, "But let us ask each in turn, and we shall see the truth of it. Dear Neeshka, let us start with her, just to drive the blade home."

Neeshka let her hand fall from Adahni's shoulder as Garius spoke her name.

"What, Neeshka?" Khelgar said, grasping the tiefling's arm. His eyes were bloodshot, but he stood high as a dwarf could, and put himself between the rogue and the mage.

"I tortured her, it is true. But cutting open your fiendling ally revealed some interesting truths... beneath the skin."

Adahni felt the girl tense beside her, and she threaded her arm through Neeshka's other arm, joining Khelgar standing defensively between her and Garius.

"Wherever she goes, demons dog her footsteps and lie in her path. Zaxis, Mephasm... and I think it is more than coincidence. Lower Planes blood draws Lower Planes blood, and the stronger the ties, the stronger the pull."

"Every time you hurt her will prolong your death by an hour," Adahni swore.

"Your half-demon companion has just the right touch of demon blood in her veins to make some ancient Illefarn binding spells take root... provided you shed enough of the owner's blood on the stones of this fortress, of course."

Adahni looked at Ammon Jerro questioningly, to ask if it was true. Ammon nodded his tattooed head to say yes, it was possible.

"She must have a most unusual heritage for her blood, even as thinned as it is, to carry such power. And once she ran out of screams, she learned to obey... didn't you, my dear?'

"You'll see the hells soon enough, Garius, I promise you that," Neeshka said.

"Don't struggle overmuch against the binding. Save your energy for the battle to come. And really, I think the execution of this irritating Knight-Captain is a small price for your freedom... the alternative is much worse, I assure you."

Neeshka hesitated and began withdrawing her arms from those of her companions, 'It's like the weiht of this whole fortress is pushing down on me... all of Illefarn... all at once." She fell silent, and all of a sudden shrieked, "No! I can't! I have a husband, I'm going to have a baby! And I 'm not going to turn on the first one who's ever been kind to me!"

"Then you're a fool," Garius said, "And no longer worthy of my attention. Sand... I know you studied at the Hosttower, and what relics you saw there are nothing compared to the ones that lie here, the secrets of ancient Illefarn. The power you seek is here... and I can allow you to rectify certain... inequities."

"Then you are a fool indeed," Sand said, "I suppose I was terribly clever to hide my tracks, but my flight from the Hosttower was caused by your very ascension. As tempting as the offer to become one of the many shadow reavers we have already slain is, I shall pass. Not much future, you see – for you or them."

"An, and then comes the matter of restraint. I can feel your indignation, Qara, your power rolls off as our anger rows... as those weaker than you claim to understand you, when all they want to do is drag you down. The power you have... imagine if it was increased three fold, ten fold, a hundred fold... without limit, without the chiding and lessons and lies of the Academy and your father would be nothing against such power. I mean, truly, what more is there to learn from the people of Neverwinter? Not much, I think, their time on this plane is done. And have your companins offered you any insights? Or simple more hostility? It sounds to me as though they are simply another Academy of narrowminded fools you need to separate yourself from. Careve your own path, my dear, and I will show you the way."

Qara was uncharacteristically silent for a long moment, and then piped up cheerfully, "Even if Sand wasn't against you, I'd stand with you. I' tired of him and all the rest telling me what to do and how, when I'm the one with the power, not them."

"Oh, Qara," Adahni said, walking to face her.

"You're not going to change my mind," she said.

"No, I'm not," Adahni said, "I just wanted to point out your great mistake. You're not powerful, not at all." She drew her blade in a swift and fluid moment and thrust it through the brocade robes that the sorceress though qualified as armor, into the softness of her belly, and up to where her heart beat between her ribs. Qara's expression went from pain, to shock, to confusion. Her mouth moved silently, trying to form the words to a spell. She succeeded in sending a spout of flame from her hands into Adahni's face, but the dragon blood that pulsed beneath both of their skins kept her quite cool indeed. Her movements grew slower, her breath shallow, and blood began to trickle from between her pale lips. "You are not powerful at all, Qara, you are in fact quite weak, and squishy, you are just a bag of blood like the rest of us." She pulled her blade from the girl, and an arc of blood spewed across the room, spattering both Adahni's face and Garius's robes. The light went out of Qara's green eyes, and the blood spread across the flagstones of Illefarn.

"Now," she said, wiping the blood from her face, "If anyone else wants to turn on me, I hope they will tell me now."

The group was silent.

"And Ammon Jerro!" Garius continued, not even registering what Adahni had just done to the last person to turn on her, "History can be rewritten this hour. Your allegiances need not remain – there is so much pain that can be undone by my lord. All those wasted decades – they need not have been in vain. The contracts with the infernal legions that bind you... we enough power, those are easily broken. As for the githyanki, we can take the battle to them as well. You need never fear either group again. And your dear Shandra... she need not remain dead. We can return her to you, and her life that you missed, you can come to know her again."

"You could promise all that and more, Garius, but for all your empty promises, I have seen the one I follow accomplish so much more."

_And cut down a woman in cold blood before me. _

"And Garius, for mentioning Shandra to me, I will enjoy killing you," Ammon said.

Garius laughed, and began to weave a spell. He targeted it to the middle of the room, and let it fly. There in the center of what had been a place of worship, the materials of the world were ripped asunder and a black portal opened there. Not caring, feeling her power, Adahni threw herself at the shade. Her companions followed more cautiously. She took down the golems first, leaping onto one arm and smashing the delicate mechanisms of their joints. They must have been new, because they did not register what was going on until they were little more than heaps of scrap metal on the floor. Garius was doing as he was wont to, casting spells here and there. Khelgar flung himself on him, hacking at him like a crazed lumberjack. Grobnar stood behind him, doing something very odd. He was yelling insults in Gnomish, but as his face grew red with anger, the words began to take the form of spells, of missiles shooting out from the bard's face and smacking Garius around. The rest joined in, forming a circle around the mage. Swords and axes and maces flashed as they smashed and cut and all in all tried to make Garius one with the floor. Like the other reavers, he went down eventually.

"Why?" Grobnar sighed after he had uttered his last curse, "Why did they choose to side with him? It makes no sense. They were our friends... and now we've lost them, like we lost Shandra. What made them _do _that?"

"Know that shadows offer many temptations, but the end result is empty, as was Qara's death. And Bishop's will be, I imagine, once our leader catches up with him."

Adahni grunted her agreement. That _would _be something to consider, once she figured out whether or not she would live through this ordeal.

"It looks like that portal's opening, no matter what we do... but I swear I am going to go out fighting," Khelgar said, "That thing took my Helvynn from me, and if I'm going to join her, I'm going to take him with me and give him to her as a present."

"We haven't traveled all this way to give up now," Ammon said encouragingly, "There must be something we can do, something to stop the King of Shadows."

"Well shit, I should hope so," Adahni swore good-naturedly, "It's only been the only thing that we've been working towards for the last year."

Adahni brandished the Silver Sword of Gith before her. As the blue lights of the crystals caught it, a beam of light shot from it to the portal. There was a faint rumble. The portal widened, and out stepped a creature. Twenty feet tall, black as the night, with a great and horned helmet on what would have been his head were he mortal. It stood in the middle of the room a moment, looking around, before the lights where his eyes should have been fell on Adahni, still holding the sword out in front of her defiantly.

"It is you," he – for she did get the impression it was distinctly male - rumbled, sounding vaguely surprised, "I know why you have come. You would walk in balance and yet you attempt to disrupt the equilibrium I would bring."

"How can you bring balance when you seek to destroy everything in your path?" Adahni countered.

"I was created to be the guardian of an empire. I do what I must to protect and preserve it."

"The Illefarn are long dead. You have nothing left to protect."

"But Illefarn blood still runs strong – the leacy of the Empire must be protected."

"The enemies of Illefarn are long gone as well."

"Even usch denouncements are a threat. If you believe the Illefarn gone, you must be eliminated." it said.

"Somehow I knew this is what was going to be happening," Adahni sighed. She stepped forward, and threw herself into it.

The few minutes were a blur. She climbed up on a statue, aiming for the creature's neck. She underestimated the distance and, when she jumped and got on his back, she hit her head, seeing stars. She clung on tightly for her life, though she felt her limbs grow weak. She saw what happened next in flashes. Grobnar's little body flying through the air and hitting the wall – and then ground at an unnatural angle. Elanee receiving a blow upside the head and landing on the ground with a sickening crack that could only have been bone. She sank the Sword of Gith again and again into the King's neck, waiting to see if something would happen. Eventually, she felt him weaken beneath her, stagger back and forth. She let go of his neck and tumbled to the ground amid the bodies of her companions. Springing back up to her feet, she was just in time to see him topple and fall.

She looked around. Grobnar and Elanee were done for – there was no helping them. Khelgar was bleeding heavily, but alive. She looked around where the statues had crumbled and found Zhjaeve, the back of her head open and her brains – or whatever it was the Githzerai kept there – spilled on the floor. Ammon Jerro yet lived, as did Casavir, Neeshka, and Sand. They all looked at each other in silence for a moment. Before Adahni could try to raise a wan celebratory cry, thinking perhaps that... maybe she was wrong, perhaps she would walk away from this one, a great rumble came from within the earth.

"The fight must have been too much for the structure," Ammon said, "Quickly! Out before it falls in on top of us!" Adahni roughly shoved Neeshka out ahead of her and scrambled for the door. The ceiling began to shatter, and stones fell on them like rain. Neeshka and Sand made it out of the door before it collapsed. Khelgar stood there in the doorway, holding it up with sheer force of will. Adahni and Casavir managed to crawl out through the opening that he was preserving, and extended hands for him to follow them up.

"Just go you fools!" he growled, "This is going to get too heavy soon, and when it does, the whole ceiling will come down and you'll all be killed as well. Run, before that happens!"

"No, Khelgar!" Neeshka cried, "You can't."

"I can and I will!" Khelgar said, "My life ended back in the courtyard at Crossroad. Just go!"

"Come on, you can name your baby after him if it'll make you feel better," Sand said. He grabbed Neeshka by the hand, and they took off up the stairs.

"Khelgar, you're the bravest man – dwarf or otherwise – I've ever met," Adahni said.

"Enough of that mush, lass, run!" he bellowed. Casavir took her arm, and she nodded. Then, they heard a crack and a rumble from the top of the stairs.

She took one last look behind her, and ran, the paladin at her heels. They reached the top of the stairs. Neeshka and Sand were nowhere to be found, and she hoped against hope that they had made it , but where the grand hall had been, there was a pile of rubble, blocking their way. A crunch behind them told her of Khelgar's fate. The ghost lights went out, and try as she might, Adahni could not summon the aasimar's light. Casavir grabbed her and held her tightly, shielding her with his body as a rattling came from overhead, a torrent of stones came down, and everything went black.

* * *

It was the pain in her leg that woke her. She opened her eyes, and blinked, quickly realizing that she was not blind, but it was dark.

"My lady," she heard Casavir groan. She squinted and concentrated, and managed to summon a weak light. They were in a pocket of sorts, a cave made of the fallen rocks. Casavir was next to her, his head leaning weakly on her shoulder, "I fear... I fear we may be trapped here."

"You don't say," she said, chuckling ruefully. Her laughter brought up blood and bile from her stomach. Examining herself with her hands she found a couple of broken ribs, and a gash on the back of her head that had knocked her out. She looked down to see that Casavir, too, was gravely wounded. The rocks had come down on him where he had shielded her, and a trickle of blood came down his chin, "And then, the eternal question. Do we end it quickly, or do we sit here and wait for death to claim us?"

He chuckled as well, but was interrupted by a fit of coughing, a deathly sound that brought up disturbingly voluminous torrent of blood that stained Adahni's armor. She took the corner of her cloak and wiped the blood from his chin. "Is there no way out?"

Adahni had, meanwhile, examined her leg, which was bent and twisted. Under her breeches she suspected strongly that the unusual bulge was her bone, shattered and protruding through her skin. "Can you walk?" she asked.

"I don't think so," he replied, "But you... you may still..."

She looked down at herself, her good leg battered and bruised. "I doubt it, Cas," she said.

"Is this how all noble deeds end?" he asked, "I suppose... I suppose it's not so bad. I meant it, my lady, when I said I would follow you to the next life."

"And what about our history together would lead you to believe we are going to the same place?" she asked.

"You do yourself a disservice, Adahni," he said, "You have sacrificed yourself to save the many. How could you not enter the heavens, dying a death so worthy?"

"Yes, I suppose that is what I'm doing right now," she said. She spoke the words out loud, "I'm dying."

They were silent a long moment. She put her arms around him and pulled his head against her chest. She thought she felt hot tears slide down her armor.

"Oh, Cas, is the pain terrible?" she asked.

"There was a moment there when I thought we would make it out," he said, "I thought... you and I would have the chance we didn't before."

"Well," Adahni said, "We'll have to see what happens now. We've waited so long, we might as well wait a little longer." She sighed, "Tell me, paladin. What will it be like, Cas, in the next life?"

"Always springtime," he said, "The sun shining down brighter than it does here. The wind fresh. Everything new. We will be always as we are now, young, but with none of the bitterness that this life has brought us."

She smiled, thinking of green fields and blue skies, so far from this dark tomb where she lay.

"Addie," he said, his voice pleading a bit, "Sing to me?"

"That I know how to do," she said. She took a deep breath, suddenly conscious of how stale the air was going around them. _Well, _she thought, _I guess suffocation beats dying of thirst with Casavir's corpse in my lap four days from now. _She thought of all the songs she had ever sung, realizing that this might be the last one she ever would. She remembered one night. There had been some good nights in Luskan, she realized, and on one of them she'd heard a lady sailor from Everlund about two lovers separated by a river. It was oddly apropros, she thought. She and Casavir should have been lovers. They were made of the same clay, but their lives had molded them in such different ways... She sang the lyrics and melody she remembered, one she had never sung before.

_Oh, Rauvin water's wondrous deep  
__And my lover is wondrous bonny  
__And woe that she should wet her feet  
__Because I love her best of any_

_Go saddle for me the bonny grey mare  
Go saddle her and make her ready.  
For I must cross the stream tonight,  
Or never more I'll see my lady._

_He's ridden over field and fen._  
_O'er moor and moss and many's the mire,_  
_But the spurs of steel were sore to bite._  
_Sparks from the mare's hoofs flew like fire._  
_The mare flew over moor and moss,_  
_And when she's reached the Rauvin Water_  
_She couldn't have ridden a furlong more_  
_Had a thousand whips been laid upon her._

_Oh Boatman put off your boat,_  
_Put off your boat for gold and money._  
_For I must cross the stream tonight,_  
_Or never more I'll see my lady_  
_Oh the sides are steep, the waters deep._  
_From bank to brae the water's pouring_  
_And the bonny grey mare she sweats for fear.  
__She stands to hear the water roaring_

_And he has tried to swim the stream,_  
_And he swam on both strong and steady,_  
_But the river was deep and strength did fail,_  
_And never more he'll see his lady._  
_Oh woe betide the willow wand,_  
_And woe betide the bush and briar,_  
_For you broke beneath my true love's hand_  
_When strength did fail and limbs did tire_

_And woe betide you Rauvin Waters  
By night you are a gloomy river,  
And over you I'll build a bridge  
That never more true love can sever.  
_

As the last notes left her mouth, Casavir was still, his head slumped on her shoulder. If he was not dead yet, he would be soon. And, she thought, I will soon be following him. She closed her eyes, the pain in her body returning as she stopped concentrating on the magic of the song. She breathed slowly, allowing herself to drift out of consciousness. _No more songs for this sparrow._


	105. The Wind in the Pines

"Are you the one they call the shardbearer?" a hollow voice echoed around the room. She opened her eyes, blinked, and opened them again. There was a little gnomish girl, no taller than her arm was long, standing in front of her. She glowed with an unearthly light that did nothing to illuminate the cavern around them. Adahni felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

"I have been called many names," she said, "Shardbearer is among them. Who are you?"

"Who are we?" another little voice piped up. Another gnome child appeared next to the girl, and then another, until the cavern was filled with them.

"She doesn't know," one of them whispered, his voice menacing. This raised a cacophony of unearthly voices.

"Know? No. Know?"

"None may know us while we know all."

"Know? No."

"Does she see us?"

"She see? Sees she?"

"No. Does she know? No."

Adahni was thoroughly frightened by now. She had just come to peace with dying herself, and now they had come to mock her?

"Do you know now? No. Know? No." They all started talking at once again, a dissonant jangle of little voices. They began twirling slowly in a kind of dance, rising off the ground, levitating there.

"You're..." she said, squinting again, "You're the Wendersnaven aren't you!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Yes!"

"Grobnar went in search of you! Where were you? He died, wondering why you had not helped us."

"Where weren't we? We were where we were. We were."

"That makes no sense, but… you're here now," Adahni said. Her brain wasn't working like it used to, she found it hard to focus on a thought or to plan what to do going forward, "Can... can you help him?" she asked, "He's dying!"

"He's not dying," the first gnome girl announced.

"He's not?" she asked incredulously.

"He's already dead."

Suddenly, his face lit up with the same unnatural light. His blue eyes stared into nothing. Blood covered his chin and neck. She let loose a little shriek and tried to leap to her feet, but her shattered leg would not hold her.

"Why are you here?"

"We come to you because you have a choice now. You didn't have a choice before. You can die here or you can die elsewhere. On the surface."

"What does that mean?" Adahni asked, "What kind of question is that?"

"But you might not like what meets you there," said one of the boys.

"You might wish you had died here," one of the girls said.

"You might."

"You might."

She thought for a moment. She had herself believing for a moment that Casavir was right, that maybe there was a next life, but something in the back of her brain wouldn't let her. It wailed and hurled itself against the inside of her skull. _There's so much I haven't _done _yet!_

"No!" she shrieked, "No I don't want to die! Good gods this is _not _how I want to go!" She tried again to struggle to her feet, probably only succeeding in making her injuries worse. When that failed, she clawed her way along the ground thrusting her hands out wildly in front of her trying to find a way out.

But the Wendersnaven were gone._ So they aren't real. I'm just going crazy. _She laid herself down. _All right. This won't be so bad. _She breathed one more breath, a shuddering gasp which brought her no oxygen. Her muscles relaxed. She felt her legs go numb, and then her hands and her heart grow still.

* * *

She awoke in the bright morning when a breath of surprisingly fresh air woke her up. She breathed deeply, the wonderful thickness of the air tasting delicious. It was sweet and nourishing and smelled of the promise of springtime. She felt deeply and untouchably happy, the lack of pain in her body feeling like ecstasy. The grass was softer than it had ever felt, the air purer. _So I guess I didn't fuck up my life so bad after all. _She sat up and looked around. Next to her, another lay sleeping. _Well Casavir was right, by all the gods, and here we are. I wonder who else I will encounter here, _Jem's face flashed across her mind. She put her hand gently on his shoulder and nudged him awake.

"So it's true?" she sighed happily. He stirred slightly and rolled over.

"Addie?"

It wasn't the paladin.

"So you're still alive there," Bishop said. He was grinning at her, something that she had never seen him do. She looked at him in alarm.

"What... what are you doing here? You got out!"

"And so did you," he said, playfully tugging on her braid, "Though I thought when I went to sleep I'd be waking up next to a corpse."

She was silent, staring at him.

"What, is that all the thanks I get? It took me two days to dig my way in and one more to carry you up those rocks."

"Why... why did you do that?" she asked, her voice choked with disappointment.

"Rescue you?"

"Yes, rescue me," she growled. She sat up, all of the pain returning to her in a rush. She pushed her cloak off of her and saw that Her leg had been set and was encased in branches that held it immobile, "You should have left me there. I was ready to die."

"I felt that way once," he said. He rose and sat back on his heels, his amber gaze fixed upon her, "How's the leg feel? You were so out of it I figured you wouldn't feel it get shoved back into place."

"Don't think I'll ever walk the same way again," she said, shaking her head, "You... you should have left me there. He..."

"Do you really think that you and he would have been going to the same place when you died?"

"He loved me," she said, "And unlike some who have claimed to do so, he never betrayed me."

"Yes, he probably did love you," he replied, "As much as someone like him can be said to love."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He didn't really know you. Not like I do. You only ever showed to him the parts of you you thought he'd like. How could he help falling in love with you?"

"You've done me a service, Bishop," she said, "But even after all this time, don't pretend like you know me."

"Of course I know you, I _am _you," he declared in disgust, "I know all about you, all the anger and the loathing and the lust you just can't seem to overcome and the complete disregard for human life, all the disgusting conniving parts of you that you worked so hard to hide from him."

"Shut up, shut up!" she shrilled, flailing out uselessly with her fist. He danced away and she could not get up to follow him.

"Why are you so ashamed all of a sudden, Addie? You're who you are! Everyone else seemed to like that."

"Everyone else is dead, Bishop, they're all dead! Every single bloody one of them. I was their leader, I should have... I should have died in there. The captain goes down with the ship."

"Don't feed me all that bullshit," Bishop growled, "You wanted to live and you know it, and you still do. _He _might have convinced you otherwise. He would have robbed me of you for some romantic idea of dying together..."

"Oh fuck Casavir, this has nothing to do with him," she sighed, the tears finally coming, "Don't you see? I'm the only one who survived, the only one! And I'm with _you! _I can't go back now, they'll think that I betrayed them too. You've made me an exile."

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes gentle as she had never seen them before. He put his hand out shyly and pushed her hair back from her face. "Addie, is it really bad as all that? You're alive, you can draw breath, and isn't it wonderful? Don't you feel the wind in the pines, smell that air, Addie!"

She didn't look up. She just sobbed, her head in her hands. After a half hour or so, spent, she did looked up at him. He lying back, his hands behind his head, his amber eyes closed and his mouth smiling serenely. Since she had known him, he had always seemed to be stooped, bent over with sorrow and bitterness. He looked even younger than his nineteen years now, the lines of his faced relaxed. It was as though the wind which roared through the pines had blown away all the bitter, nasty parts of him and he was a clean shell of his former self.

For the first time, she paused and looked around. They were atop a high ridge overlooking the valley below. There was still snow on the ground, but nowhere near the volume that she had seen only days before at the battle. She could see the vast expanse of Neverwinter beneath them and even the towers of Crossroad Keep across the river which ran at the bottom of the cliff. The sun filtered down through the branches, warmer and brighter than she remembered. It was mid-morning and the damp smell of the pine needles was sharper and more real than anything she'd ever smelled before. The sky was bluer than blue. There were tiny violets growing defiantly in the gaps where the snow had melted, out of the moss, and she was struck by the beauty of the petals against the dark green next to the purity of the snow.

"It's not so bad to be alive, is it," he said. He sat down next to her again and gave her a small kiss on her cheek. She looked at him and once more saw the smooth-faced boy from Barnslow, "Think of it this way, at least now you're free. All of them think you died down there, and they think of you as a hero. You don't have to go back to all that responsibility and bullshit. Or, I suppose you could if you wanted to."

"But let me guess... I have a debt to pay you first."

"I'm not Duncan. I won't be holding it over your head for two years and change. I'm calling it due now," Bishop said.

"What is it you want?"

"I need you to forgive me."

"Forgive you?" she said, "I can still feel your steel in my back."

"What I did was inexcusable... and pretty damn stupid as well. But think about it, did I do any real harm? They would have broken down the door eventually, and you beat them back anyway."

"Good men and women died that day," she said, "You weren't there to see Khelgar's face when Helvynn was struck down, or Grobnar when they carried Milo back to be cremated... they all fell because of you."

"Addie… they died before the gate was opened. Think about it. What harm did I truly do?"

"That's not the point, Bishop, that you would do that…"

He bowed his head, "I know. Don't you think I've thought about that?"

"No," she said, "I don't think you have."

"I'm not the same man whose nose you broke in the Sunken Flagon. Something... you... when I laid eyes on you I didn't even recognize you. But I realized, later, that you were a completely different person from that sad little doxy in Luskan. I dismissed it, that you were really just her underneath it all, just some two-copper whore putting on airs, but... it was as though even though your past was a part of you, you didn't let it take over like I did. And now, Addie, I... I feel as though I'm free for the first time in my life."

She was silent for a good, long while. There was nothing deceptive in his tone, his eyes were clear and light brown and stared at her steadily, pleadingly. "You seem to be being honest with me. So I'll be honest with you. I forgave you down there," she said, "When you threw your bow down and turned your back on the shadow priest. You didn't need to rescue me."

"Yes I did," he said.

"What... what am I going to do now?" she asked.

"Well you're not going far until that leg of yours will hold you. And then I suppose you can go back to being the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep. With all the paperwork, and taxes and all that..."

"Or?"

"Or you could come with me," he said.

"And where is it you're going?"

He looked around, sniffed the air. A breeze blew down from the mountain, rustling the pine needles. He rose and leaned into it, spreading his arms out, his head back. His face was relaxed, his mouth smiling mysteriously. It washed over Adahni where she sat on the ground. It was cold and clean and smelled of adventure, of all the things out there she had yet to uncover.

"Have you ever been the Spine of the World? To Thay? Calumshan? Amn? Baldur's Gate? Have you ever sailed the Sea of Swords to the end of Faerun?" he asked, "Do you really want to die before you've done all that?"

"I suppose... I suppose not." She breathed deeply, smelling what he smelled, feeling the freedom on the cold wind, "I... my heart isn't broken as I thought it would be. But there is one thing final burden I must cast off. Help me up."

He knelt and put his hand under her shoulders, bearing her gently to her one good leg. Putting her weight on her good leg and on him, she snatched the knife, imbued with the magic of Ember, from where he kept it at his waist. She unbuckled her armor and cast it off, and unbuttoned the shirt she had under it. He looked at her nervously, still young enough to be rather interested in her naked bosom, but knowing her well enough to realize she was not undressing for his benefit.

The knife bit her deeply above her sternum, and she screamed out loud as she dragged it down, opening her breast to the bone. With her fingers she found the jagged edges of the shard that had cleaved to her breast bone so long ago. She worked it back and forth, wiggling it loose like a child would do when he first started losing his baby teeth. The pain was unimaginable, but so was her will, and eventually it came free, and she cried her victory. Through the whole ordeal, Bishop was watching her in horror, but did not try to intervene. She looked at the bloody shard in her hand, no bigger than her smallest finger, and wondered at the worlds of trouble it had brought her. And then, with a cry, she flung it over the side of the cliff and watched it, glinting in the sun, as it fell end over end, down and down and down, until it landed in the rushing river,

swollen with snowmelt. She collapsed again, and Bishop helped her down to sit. She took matters into her own hand – quite literally taking the ends of skin she had torn apart and holding them together. He approached her from behind, putting his arms around her and covering the wound with his hand. The blood oozed through her fingers and then through his, spattering on the snow.

_Of all the money that e'er I had, _she sang, her breath ragged and the melody barely there.

_I spent it in good company_

_And all the harm I have ever done_

_Alas it was to none but me._

Bishop chuckled a little at the unintended truth of the lyrics. She felt edges of her tattered skin began to knit together beneath her hands.

_Of all the comrades e'er I had_

_They are sorry for my going away_

_And all the sweethearts that e'er I had_

_They wish me one more day to stay_

The blood flow slowed, and then stopped, but the wound was still very fresh as she continued.

_But since it falls into my lot_

_That I should rise and you should not_

_I will gently rise and softly call_

_Good night and joy be with you all_

They took their hands off her breast and, despite the caked red there, she was more or less whole. He ran her hand over newly healed the skin between her breasts. It was smooth, though a white scar like a thorny branch marked where the shard had once been. She felt her shoulders relax as they never had before. It was as though she had gone through her entire life with all the muscles in her body in a constant state of tension, and now they had finally learned to unclench. She lay back against him and let him wrap his cloak around her naked torso.

Something odd was happening to her. She remembered Retta Starling telling when she had first started becoming a woman, about childbirth, about how it was a horrifically painful and bloody process, but after it was done and the mother held the child in her arms, the memory began to fade. She would never be a mother, but Adahni thought that this must be what it is like. Going through a long period of discomfort and hours of agony, and then… she remembered it. She remembered poor Khelgar, crushed under stones, and Shandra, and all of them… but without pain.

She tried to remember what she hated so much about the man who now held her in his arms. He had done something awful, he had, but it seemed to her that it was actually someone else who looked like him. Another Bishop, not this one, a man defined by his bitterness and rage. This man had neither.

"Do you see what I mean, Addie?" he said, smiling broadly, "Let it go. It's all over now." She sighed again, her body feeling light and free as it never had before. The world suddenly seemed so big, unlimited. The sky was clear, and from the top of the cliff it was as though she could see forever. She began to smile, and then to chuckle, and then laugh riotously.

"How ridiculous we must seem," she said, "Like children in the snow…"

"Is it so bad?" he asked, "Your childhood ended at fifteen, mine at fourteen. Don't … don't we _deserve _it? Don't we deserve to start again?" He kissed her then, and it was eerily reminiscent of the first time a boy had ever kissed her, all hesitance and awkwardness – things she had never associated with him before. But it was sweet, and she made no move to stop him, feeling the old excitement rise in her bosom, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. She broke it off, almost reluctantly, having something to say.

"Oh good gods, Bishop," she said, beginning to laugh again, tears of mirth rolling down her face. She laid down, her head in the snow. The cold roughness against her cheek was simultaneously uncomfortable and the best thing she'd ever felt. She reached out with her still bloody hands and pulled him to the ground beside her, "Oh good gods it's wonderful to finally be alive!"


	106. Epilogue

It was a dark and stormy night in Luskan. Kath was making her rounds of her bar, though the arthritis had gotten to her knees in the past few years, and she didn't move as spryly as she used to. Her hair was still red, but that was the result of dye, not nature, and the paint on her face did little to cover up the web of wrinkles that had spread over her features. _The girls are just as young and beautiful as ever, and here I am, getting older every year,_she thought, looking over the harem of young ladies that worked the room and the customers. She paused to look at the wanted poster behind the bar. _Kyrwan Bishop, dead or alive. Ten thousand gold. Deliver to Lady Neeshka Lainsford, Commander of Crossroad Keep. _The drawing was a poor likeness, she thought, though from what she had heard of Lady Neeshka, perhaps that was on purpose.

The door burst open just as a loud clap of thunder rolled through the heavens. Kath jumped, startled in spite of herself. Three soaking wet urchins made their way in to sit at a table by the fire. One of them was unmistakable. Mackrem Cullygan was a little older, a little grayer, and nobody would mistake him for a ten-year-old boy anymore. The other two looked dreadfully familiar, but she could not place them. One was a young man in his late teens or early twenties, his hair long and ragged, and his face in dire need of a shave. The other was a woman with a mass of black hair, also in her twenties. She walked with the help of a cane and a pronounced limp.

"Hey there gorgeous," a sailor said, approaching the woman. She looked at him, her eyes glinting like copper coins, and in a single movement leaned back on what must have been her good leg, and whacked him soundly across the knees. He cursed and went back to the bar. Kath chuckled, suddenly knowing who she was dealing with.

"Is there a Jasynda here?" the woman asked.

"Aye, I'm Jasynda," the kitchen girl said, coming out of the scullery, wiping her hands on her apron. Kath saw the woman hand Jasynda a ring. The kitchen girl looked down at it, and up at the woman, and then throw her apron over her head and retreat to the back rooms, sobbing. The woman shook her head, and walked back over to the table to sit beside Mackrem. The bearded young man with her bought her a drink, and the three of them settled in to take in a pint.

"Hullo there, Captain Cullygan," Kath said, "Nigh on ten years since you've been around these parts."

"Hullo yourself, Kath," Mackrem said, accepting the second mug of ale she offered him.

She cast an eye over his compatriots.

"Who're your crew?"

"Vagabonds from further down the coast," Mackrem said, "Dania and Keowan."

"Aye, I see," Kath said, staring at the woman some more. She had pitch-black hair twisted and braided into a thousand strands, with beads of stone and metal glinting from its depths in the firelight. Her eyes were curious, like two copper coins that stared straight ahead, looking neither to the left nor the right.

"What the hells are you looking at?" she growled.

"Is that you, Addie?" Kath asked, "Addie Farlong?"

"My name's Dania," the pirate replied, "You've got me mistaken for someone else."

"You look like a girl who used to work here," Kath said, "A little thing from West Harbor."

"I'm not a thing," the woman replied. Those copper eyes looked Kath up and down, and the proprietress thought she saw a flicker of recognition in them, "Doubt she was either."

"No, no," Kath said, "She actually went on to distinguish herself. Died a hero, though, not too long ago. In the war with the King of Shadows."

"Good for her," the pirate woman said, a small smile flitting across her mouth.

"I see," Kath said.

Kath went back to the kitchen, the girl from West Harbor on her mind. The ragged trio did not stay long, and by the morning, Kath was watching the _Dance of the Damned_had sail out of Luskan Harbor under an unseasonably azure sky. Though through her long years on the Luskan docks, the halfling's ship was a regular appearance, Kath had a feeling in her bones that, this time, they would not return.


	107. Addie's Songbook

A list of songs that appear in this story, the versions I stole, and where you can find recordings.

Chapter 1

"The Moonshiner" – The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem, _Live at_ _Carnegie Hall_

Chapter 2

"The Cuckoo's Nest" – second song on track titled "Drink Down the Moon" on Steeleye Span's _Now we are Six; _lyrics used are a variant found on

Chapter 11

"The Brisk Young Butcher" – Steeleye Span, _The Early Years_

Chapter 14

"This Old Man" – lyrics adjusted by me but with inspiration from Shane MacGowan's "Skipping Rhymes" from _The Crock of Gold_

Chapter 19

"Paper and Pins" – The Tossers, _Communication and Conviction_

"The Maid of Llanwellyn" – Kate Rusby, _Ten_

Chapter 25

"Home, Boys , Home" – The Dubliners, _The Holy Ground_

Chapter 30

"Tibby Dunbar" – The Dubliners, _At it Again, _Ewan MacColl, _Songs of Robert Burns_

Chapter 38

"Waly Waly" – Buffy Sainte-Marie, _Little Wheel Spin and Spin_

Chapter 46

"The Brown Girl" – Steeleye Span, _Rocket Cottage_

Chapter 49

"Andrew Lammie" – Kate Rusby, _Awkward Annie_

Chapter 51

"I'm a Rover" – The Dubliners, _Seven Drunken Nights_

Chapter 65

"Kellswater" – Lorena McKennit, _Elemental_

Chapter 66

"Mormond Braes" – The Old Blind Dogs' _The Collection, _The Dubliners, _Original Dubliners, _Ewan MacColl, _Classic Scots Ballads_

Chapter 78

"Our Good Man" – Ewan MacColl, _The English and Scottish Popular Ballads_

"The Dundee Weaver" – The Dubliners, _Seven Drunken Nights_

Chapter 79

"The Curragh of Kildare" – Christy Moore, _The Time Has Come_

Chapter 89

"Johnny Be Fair" – Buffy Sainte-Marie, _The Best Of, Vol. II_

Chapter 95

"Tibby Dunbar"

Chapter 96

"Isn't it Grand, Boys" – The Clancy Brothers , _Reunion_

Chapter 100

"The Wren! The Wren!" – The Chieftains, _The Bells of Dublin_

Chapter 104

"Annan Waters" – Kate Rusby, _Hourglass_

Chapter 105

"The Parting Glass" – The Pogues, _Rum, Sodomy and the Lash_


End file.
